


Love Woven Through Two Territories

by mara87



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Romance, Tragic Elements, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mara87/pseuds/mara87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kingdom in danger of attack, another in danger of a reckless future, a marriage of beneficial arrangement is set up.  But then amid tragedy and tests of will, something amazing happens, before the cruelest trial.  A question.   Which is worth more?  A kingdom?  Or a solitary life?  When a devious plot is conjured up, and she is captured, he must choose between territory/its rule, and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story is listed as Arthur/Other and Gwen/Lancelot because of prior relationships. There is some infidelity in this story, but it is not too prolonged. A/G are endgame for certain. There is also a very tragic element in this story, please be warned. It's not Arthur or Gwen.

[ __ ](http://i328.photobucket.com/albums/l352/marasky07/longchallenge4promptbanner2MADEBYHOPE27.png)

  


*Made by [](http://hope27.livejournal.com/profile)[**hope27**](http://hope27.livejournal.com/) *

**Title:** Love Woven Through Two Territories  
 **Themes and/or Prompt/s** Children, Capture {this prompt to be used much more later}, Fairytale  
 **Disclaimer:** I disclaim/Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.

**Author’s notes:** This is a medieval AU story that I wrote for [](http://ag-fics.livejournal.com/profile)[**ag_fics**](http://ag-fics.livejournal.com/) long challenge. A WIP, it actually won first place. Thank you so much for anyone who voted for it and/or responded. You’re very kind and I’m glad you’re enjoying this. This is the first part of the story (edited and parts added since the competition). Future parts will go through the same edits.

**Art Note:** The beautiful art (click on it to see full size) above is made by the very talented [](http://hope27.livejournal.com/profile)[**hope27**](http://hope27.livejournal.com/). Her lovely artwork was such great inspiration to this story and it won first place too! Congrats hope27 and thank you!

**Banner Note:** My beautiful banner (click on it to see full size) below for the competition was made by the wondefully talented [](http://ella-rose88.livejournal.com/profile)[**ella_rose88**](http://ella-rose88.livejournal.com/). Thanks M!

***

**Love Woven Through Two Territories**

[ __ ](http://i328.photobucket.com/albums/l352/marasky07/longchallenge4firstplacebanner2ndversion-1.png)

  


*Made by [](http://ella-rose88.livejournal.com/profile)[**ella_rose88**](http://ella-rose88.livejournal.com/) *

 

**Part One:** _Meetings of Fate_

“You bring me news?” King Bayard, a husky bearded man of long tawny brown hair asked of his visitor who was mostly shrouded from sight within a vast black cloak. But for the two of them, the room atop the castle’s highest floor was empty. It was how their meetings were always conducted, in private.

“Yes. It is done.”

King Bayard, the full physicality of the shrouded figure hidden even from him, looked pleased. “Perfect. And no one will be the wiser?”

“Not at all. This last part should start taking effect gradually. Even the physician will think it’s nature’s course.”

That delighted King Bayard. How his thick grabbing hands wanted to keep scooping them up, _falling kingdoms._

The cloaked figure watched him with cold calculation. King Bayard was one of those _divide and conquer_ types, a man ruled by his sword instead of his brain. But then King Bayard had little of _any_ intellect.

Which was fine. It served to keep up the masquerade of it all. King Bayard provided the ammunition, allowing the opening to each intricate place of hiding, and so the riches ensued. The cloaked figure had collected four now. It was said the fifth was in a particular area where snatching it would not be without issue. There was something very peculiar about that location that the cloaked figure had yet to fully understand, but for now Bayard still needed to be _tolerated_.

“The alliance has begun, a bond of marriage. In return she will ensure their kingdom is guarded.”

“ _WHAT?_ How could you allow this?”

“Temper yourself please your Majesty. Why do you think it was so important to get within? Her son is reckless. He will fail.”

Still, the king pouted. “It was not easy to get rid of his father. And it’s been five years now since then that I’ve been patient. You should know that patience has limits.”

It was a threat that forced the cloaked figure to restrain their laughter as they counseled the silly king. “Doing away with him was the best choice we could make, but you have to understand, this kingdom is not like the others. It’s the most powerful in Albion.”

Bayard’s greedy hand fisted hard. “Which is why I want it in my clutches! So I can crush it! And the other too!”

“And you will have it. Both of them actually. But in due time. To rush this will ruin everything.”

The king glared like a petulant little boy.

The cloaked figure decided to leave before his temper boiled to the height of aggravation. “Well, I’ve given you my report. Now I must go. Don’t want to raise suspicions.”

“Make sure you get rid of her!”

The cloaked figure turned back around, eyes, the only thing visible through the black shroud, glowing with malice. “Your Liege…the queen _is_ dead already. Nothing but a walking corpse.”

***

**One Month Later**

***

“I thought you said she was arriving today!”

Swallowing down another goblet of ale, Prince Arthur drunkenly smiled. “So she is, my mother tells me.” Lips wet from the Ale, he started kissing his way down the woman’s neck as they stood within one of the dark hallways of a secluded tavern outside of Camelot. He frequented it often, with friends, and with the woman whose supple bits of revealed constitution he was enjoying. Usually when it came time to depart the shadowy premises, he was filled with laughter and laziness, that of a man who had imbibed beyond sense.

***

The trip through the mountains had been a tiring one for Princess Guinevere, lasted just a little over a week. As she sighed, ready for the riding to be done, her rear sore after just a few short rests, the knight attending to her pointed _it_ out.

“There. Right past that wood. Camelot.”

The princess turned her caliginous eyes upon the land heavily, letting out a long sigh. Sir Percival, the knight escorting her, touched her hand with feeling. “Still thinking of Lancelot?”

The princess, known to friends as simply Gwen, shook her head sadly. It had been a very hard departure for many reasons, including leaving her father, mates, and the man who had professed the depth of his feelings to her just a few short months ago. “He was so angry when I left. Wouldn’t even see me. He believes I wanted this.”

Percival had known Gwen since childhood. She had the kindest heart and didn’t care much about royal platitudes, always wanted honesty from people, and treated everyone with an ounce of humility. Lancelot was his friend too, as all his fellow Knights of Tirmaiur were, Percival nicknamed the ‘gentle roaring bear’ of them because of his impressive size and his soft demeanor that could turn like a spark of fire upon his enemies, thus the ‘roaring’ part. He got why Lancelot was upset, but Gwen meant much to him too and she didn’t deserve the kind of fallout she had received before their departure. He had to surmise she probably wouldn’t have gotten it, at least not so lightning charged, if she had just been more forthcoming.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Gwen bit down on her bottom lip, remembering their volatile conversation, and the emotional one that came before with her father. When he had asked it of her she had shocked so much at first, but then realizing how much danger her kingdom could be in if she didn’t agree to this, and most especially her father’s fate, she consented, and allowed Lancelot’s wrath.

“What purpose would it have served? No matter what happens it could be a long time before I return to Tirmaiur, dependent upon my future husband. This will free Lancelot. And my Dad already has enough burdens, not needing to face any anger from one of his knights. With Elyan doing who knows what, and Tirmaiur in such dire need of militia support, whilst said to be one of the kingdoms on the top of Bayard’s list, I had no choice but to agree.”

She faced the gentle bear of a knight more directly now, bringing out a sharp point that chilled her to think of ever happening.

“Percy, Bayard would kill my Dad if he got hold of Tirmaiur, just like he did with the other kings. Brutally. Publically. He’d take his life.”

And that was the most crucial reason why she agreed to this. She couldn’t accept that, not after already losing her mother years ago when she was just a little girl. Tirmaiur needed her dad to live, and so did she.

“Gwen…”

Not one to give into sympathy, raised as a royal who knew that sacrifice was part of her role, Gwen continued, her head held high, bringing out the positive side as she was akin to do. “Queen Ygraine is a good woman. Noble and quietly strong. How bad can her son be?”

***

“Oh it’s the knights! Let’s salute them!”

A sentry of men garbed in gleaming chainmail and hardened armor passed by, a few letting out snickers at the prince’s inebriated state, but most just politely ignoring him as midday commenced, the sun a timid glow in a partially cloudy sky.

“Arthur.” The lady under his arm, her golden blonde hair in slight messy coils after their earlier shenanigans at the tavern where the right sum of gold could earn you a room of covert discretion, protested, as he raised his hand waveringly with salutations.

“All hail the knights of Camelot! Go forth! Take down the enemy!” A dippy grin upon his face, Arthur lifted away his sword from his utility belt with shockingly stark adeptness for someone so inebriated. “Cut down that stuffed man!” He joked, referring to the _‘dummy’_ that was sometimes used for training. Then placing the decorated sword back in his belt he started to hysterically giggle.

Most of the knights passed by without comment, honorable to their queen and kingdom, instilled with knight’s code, but one couldn’t help stopping, giving the prince a wry grin.

“Drunk again, huh Arthur?”

The young prince, nineteen years old and some months, shook his head, making his blonde hairs swing wildly. “Noooo…me…drunk? Never. I just had a _‘little’…_ ” He emphasized the word with his fingers. “To drink. That’s all.”

The dark haired knight’s look was skeptical. “Right.”

It was a challenge, something Arthur rarely backed down from. Even after carousing at the tavern with the young noble lady in his attendance, his eyes sparked with interest. The knight knew his dry response would get such reaction. Perhaps that was why he made it, or maybe he just liked getting the other’s rile up. It really didn’t matter now that both were taking out their swords ready to prove their worth.

From his position at the front of the line of knights, Leon barked out, “Gwaine, enough! Get back into line!” He wasn’t at all surprised though when the other simply ignored him. Gwaine was notorious for starting something, a vagrant at times of mischief.

This was not good at all. Peasants were already leaving their launderings and other tasks to watch with interest as they were sure it would be a good fight.

Leon knew that some years ago the prince would certainly have the upper hand. Those were the days when the king was still alive and Arthur never balked his role. Even now still Arthur’s finesse with the sword couldn’t be miscounted. But Gwaine trained more regularly, and of course was not sloshed like the prince was. So there was the possibility that this ‘show’ would display the prince as the loser, and that was not good for Camelot, a kingdom that prided itself on its strong military and distinguished nobility.

“Gwaine!” Leon tried again, but the other was oblivious to his yells, enjoying the mismatched fight with a sly grin upon his face. Leon watched with a tight grimace, roaring at the other knights to get to the training field, which they of course did not quickly yield to, also engrossed in the fight, as Arthur wavered here and there, but kept up a steady counter to all of Gwaine’s blows, parrying back and forth with the kind of precision that could only come from being taught about the sword since birth.

It angered Leon that Gwaine was taking so much advantage now and he’d make sure that he paid for it in training later today, because Arthur wasn’t always like this, binging and carrying on with the kinds of noble ladies who simply liked to carouse and have fun. There was a time he was more soberly minded, all before that awful day.

Leon flinched with remembrance. He was one of the knights that carried the body back, watching the blood soak into his chainmail, feeling it trickling down the bared parts of his arms. It was the blackest day ever in Camelot, the day their king died.

Ah. As much as he kept telling his knights to stop watching and head to the field, he couldn’t help viewing it all too. If the king was alive to see what his son was up to now, he’d throw him in the cells himself no doubt, pour some ice cold water upon his head to get him to sober up, but he’d also have to be impressed by how it didn’t matter that his son was drunk. He still could fight like no one else.

That is until interruption, the roughest roar. It came starkly through now and Leon wished harder than ever he had stopped the fight when it first started.

_“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”_

Gwaine used the interruption to deliver a blow that brought Arthur to his rump in less than dignified fashion, making Leon shake his head as it was all in front of the citizens of Camelot, a display of disgrace that wouldn’t bring any happiness to their already fraught queen.

At least it was finally over, and with _him_ now in attendance, the peasants were already scurrying back to their tasks and the watching knights were making fast headway to the training fields. Leon glared at Gwaine who gave a nonplussed shrug and put his sword away. Down on the ground, Arthur looked up at his uncle, mouth forming into an angry embarrassed pout.

Not able to get up solidly on his own, Leon gave him a hand. Arthur took it, and then moved away rapidly, standing on his own after a bit of wobbliness.

“Uncle.”

“Lord Agravaine.” Gwaine gave a bow.

The man with hair the color of an unkindness of ravens, turned coldly to the knight. “I believe you have better things to be doing Gwaine than taunting my nephew.”

“Yes. Probably.” Gwaine showed little nervousness, but he wasn’t as _hair swinging_ as he had been while ‘fighting’ Arthur. Quickly he moved to Leon’s side and they both headed to the training field, leaving the woman, Lady Elaine, and Arthur with his uncle.

Agravaine grasped Arthur’s arm with the most cordial of smiles as his personally spoken words came out as directive barbs. “You’ve probably already humiliated yourself enough Nephew, falling on the stone like some drunken commoner. Nonetheless in front of such a gathering audience of all your admirers who most notably seemed quite entertained by seeing you land on your ass. So I don’t need to tell you just how awful that little performance was, right?”

Grunting, Arthur thrust his arm away from his uncle’s _‘kind’_ grasp. “Gwaine started it.” Really, it was the silliest reaction and even with his drunkenness, which was dulling rapidly with his uncle now in attendance, Arthur knew how stupid it sounded.

“Isn’t your betrothed set to be here within an hour or two?”

Arthur slapped on a fake smile, feeling a headache building from his earlier drinking, and still not so steady on his feet. “Indeed. So I’ll take my leave, Uncle.” He gave the façade of a courteous bow and then grasping the Lady Elaine’s waist, getting her to giggle as his fingers tickled, he rushed with her into the palace.

Agravaine watched with a raise of his eyebrows. _Just a bit longer._ Then everything would be in order. And he wouldn’t have to deal with this insolent brat anymore.

***

As they came in even closer, Gwen let out a gasp of amazement. At just months shy of twenty years, she’d been to more than a few kingdoms since the time she’d been a young girl, traveling with her parents and even sometimes traveling with just one or two attendants, but Camelot was like none other in eminent vastness.

Past the deepest forests were the glittering blues and silvery whites of the ocean. Closer to the kingdom were winding rivers and a lake surrounded by banks of green woodland. All that before Camelot itself. Much of it actually was farmland, spread out between the sets of tall roofed houses, but beyond them was the castle, a colossal fixture of towers that rose so high they seemed to almost touch the heavenly sky.

“Impressive.” Percival let out a low whistle.

Gwen cleared her throat with intention, just as amazed as him, but quietly sick for the home she loved, and maybe just a bit more nervous about what was to come than she wanted to admit.

“Yes. But it’s not Tirmaiur.” As it wasn’t. Tirmaiur had a much smaller palace that had signs of decay from age since it was one of the oldest kingdoms of Albion. But it also had beautiful little ponds and creeks, distant mysterious caves and surrounding it was a forest of growth so old many of the trees were taller than the virgin ones here that surrounded Camelot.

“Alright, Gwen?”

Fixing her mouth, she thought how silly it was to lament. She agreed to this for Tirmaiur’s survival, something that wouldn’t be possible if Bayard was allowed to invade, forcing their strained army to forfeit. The elderly kingdom was already suffering from a slew of problems. The weather had not been so kind lately, fierce storms just months ago causing structural damage, death, and ruined crops. Bandits too were increasing in the area, those lawless men attacking the outer borders, putting citizens and the guard on high alert. But beyond all that was her Dad, the person she thought of most since leaving Tirmaiur.

“Yes. Let’s just keep going.”

***

Once entering the palace it began, on Elaine’s suggestion, an impromptu game of hide and seek. Since early childhood Arthur had loathed being inside the castle’s chilly interior without a glowing hearth nearby, prone to shivering fits often. It was why he usually was bundled up, this day in a long mahogany shaded coat that fell all the way to his knees. But the game warded off the cold as it meant he often was running or more-so ‘jogging’ from room to room to find his little vixen.

One minute she had been beside him and the next she was gone like a feline of the night. He had to suppose that it was his drunkenness that had allowed his alertness to fade enough for her to vanish so fast. A drunken giggle escaping his mouth now as he made his way down another hall, he tried to not concentrate on what his uncle had reminded him of. He supposed now that it was a little more than an hour before her upcoming arrival. Well until then he wanted to play.

And maybe even after. It was his mother who coerced him into this after all. She probably thought that he would go into this honorably, and he would, to all outsiders, but within, he’d make it beneficial to him. Just because he had to marry some stranger didn’t mean he had to live a life of unhappiness.

As for now, she wasn’t here yet, and Elaine still needed to be found. Letting out a drunken belch, he jogged to the other end of the hallway, nearly running into one of the scullery maids who let out a holler of surprise. He gave her a smirking smile and ran past as she shook her head with unhappiness.

Once again his frivolity meant more work for the servants. On his way to the next hall he had just knocked over a vase of flowers and the water was already spilling messily onto the floor. _Oh, that Prince Arthur_ , the middle aged maid thought angrily, scrambling to clean everything up. He was a charming one, but such a messy one too!

***

Coming to the citadel now Gwen could feel her heart thumping strongly in her chest. It was even grander here, the castle so tall, surrounding them, so encumbering she felt she might be swallowed up by it. Really, it was like nothing she had ever seen, and so novel appearing. Unlike Tirmaiur’s aged palace, the outside of this one, its stone was like it had just been put there, shining in the patch of sun that the sky was allowing out.

As they got closer even still, departing the market area of decorative stands and colorfully dressed merchants, were flashes of red cloaks. The knights were so regally dressed it was like they were out of some fairytale, all perfectly matching, attire like it had just been washed and pressed. She doubted there was a shortage of servants here like in Tirmaiur.

Coming to the inner court Percival announced their arrival, which was mostly about protocol because the watchmen in the towers had already seen them. The guard spoke to them politely. “The queen has been expecting you Sir Percival and Princess Guinevere. She regrets there was not a grand meeting outside, but there’s a chill today and so she thought you’d be more comfortable within the palace. The guard inside will escort you to the throne room now.”

Giving a slight bow of her head, lead by Percival, Gwen entered the palace of Camelot for the first time.

***

“ _There_ you are.”

Elaine blushed. “Oh. I got lost and was just mesmerized by the loveliness of your mother’s chambers.”

Arthur latched his arm around her waist. “Probably should get out before she finds you…or me.” Even still slightly inebriated, Arthur was well aware his mother did not take kindly to others entering her room and ‘snooping’ around when she was not there.

Elaine perused the room still, luminescent eyes full of dazzled reaction. “Oh, she has the loveliest pieces. Look at that crown…and those jewels. Wherever did she get them from, those sapphires?”

Arthur shrugged, uncaring. “Don’t know. Come on.” He’d much rather get in some _playtime_ in the privacy of his chambers.

Elaine reached out to touch some of the beautiful jewels, grimacing when Arthur’s hand pulled her away.

“Elaine, come on. My mother wouldn’t want you here.” Sadly it was true that his mother really didn’t care much for Elaine, remarking often that she was just too ‘frivolous’.

Elaine relented, commenting on the alarming sound that had just rung through the palace. “Didn’t you hear it?”

How could he have not while he was searching through the castle’s interior. The double clanging timbre rang so clear they pierced his ears for a moment, making him groan as much with unhappiness as irritated hangover pain.

“Yes. But doesn’t matter.” He grasped her waist with a sly smile, lips puckering to deliver some sloppy wet kisses.

“Arthur.” Elaine’s palm flattened on his chest to get him to listen even as she couldn’t but help giggle at his mouth’s enjoyment of her face. “Those were the bells just moments ago. She’s here. The princess.”

He raised his finger with playful authority. “I know. But you see-

_“Oh don’t let me interrupt.”_

And that rapidly put an end to it. Letting go of Elaine’s waist and his mouth forming into a flat line of displeasure, Arthur gestured to the startled Elaine that he had _‘told her so.’_

Elaine meanwhile blushed red at the queen finding the two of them in her chambers, kissing.

Queen Ygraine was feeling tired after an earlier trip away from the castle, but the upcoming occasion was too important to rest. She turned to the other woman in the room, same age as her son she supposed, nineteen, not pleased to find them together, where she slept nonetheless. “Lady Elaine.”

The young woman curtsied over and over. “Oh Queen Ygraine. Your Majesty. Forgive me for-

Ygraine had no time for this. She put up her hand, speaking with fake politeness. “Lovely for you to visit us… _again_. But I must speak to my son now, alone. If you don’t mind? I’m sure Sir Gwaine or one of the other knights would be so happy to escort you back home as we have a very important visitor this afternoon.”

The words were cordial, but the tone was curt. Lady Elaine shuffled out of the room. No one noticed the tension that sparked in Arthur at the mention of Gwaine’s name and the suggestion for Lady Elaine to be ‘escorted’, especially not the queen who now turned to her son with piercing inquiry.

“What were you two doing in here?”

Arthur gave a careless shrug, causing Ygraine to let out an exasperated sigh as she realized better not probably to receive the answer. “Oh no matter. Look at you.”

He glanced down at his leather vest and blue tunic, covered by the long coat of course. “Something wrong?”

It was all askew and his face was ripe with too much drinking. It made Ygraine frown so solidly that her peach colored cheekbones pinched with disfavor. He didn’t look ready one bit. “Yes, very. Now…Oh your father would get one of the servants to pour ice cold water over your head.” So disgusted right now the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.

Arthur shivered for just a moment before letting out dryly, “Well he’s _DEAD_ now Mother so guess that’s not an option. Remember, you buried his corpse underneath the ground.”

“Arthur!”

He turned away, wishing his tongue hadn’t come out so barbed, but also hurt by her equally loose utterance.

Ygraine started to go to him to make up for what she said, but then he was letting out a big hiccup, giving a smirking smile after it was done. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Ygraine groaned at the breath of intoxication that came from his mouth. Really she had no time for this. A part of her was thinking that maybe she should just go get the ice water herself. There was no time for that though and there were ways her husband had disciplined their son that she could never bring herself to do, not after his untimely death.

Arthur watched her sheepishly, half angry and half tipsy still from all that drinking, feeling her suddenly take hold of his arm. His mother was a small pale complexioned woman, but when determined, was not to be argued with. So he simply relented with a rolling of his eyes. As she ushered him out of her room she stated, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Arthur deadpanned. “Right, the Princess-

He stopped. Out in the hallway was a very queer looking man, or boy, maybe the same age as himself, maybe not, with dark short hair, ugly brown laced up boots and the weirdest looking bright red scarf. “I’m not marrying _that._ ”

Frustrated, Ygraine told her son sharply. “This is your new servant. His name is Merlin. He is the son of some old friends of mine so you will treat him with due respect.”

_“If he lasts…”_ Arthur muttered under his breath. Boy was so pale he looked like he might fall over. Ugly, ugly boots.

“Oh you might be surprised, Arthur.” Ygraine responded with knowing. Just last night his umpteenth servant…she lost count a long time ago how many there had been in the past five years…departed the castle in nearly tears after Arthur, thinking his dinner was not warm enough, threw the leftover saucer at him. Well now, it was time to approach the problem in a unique way. She smiled with purpose, giving her son a meaningful glance.

Arthur felt a trickle of trepidation descend his spine. Whenever his mother gave one of _those_ looks it meant she was hiding something.

Merlin too had a bit of a mischievous look now. Arthur squinted with distrust.

“Arthur.” Ygraine spoke with expectation. The prince grunted. He was feeling more like the servant now than the servant himself probably was. Might as well play along then. Anyway, he doubted _Merlin_ would last more than maybe a few hours which would prove for an entertaining evening.

“Well come along Merlin. Do your job. My bed is messed up. You can fix it. And I guess…Mother wants me to wear something else. I have a princess coming. We’re going to get married!”

He skipped down the hallway with mocking happiness causing Ygraine to groan.

***

Following Percival’s lead, Gwen entered the throne room to an array of well-dressed nobles and a sentry of red cloaked knights.

Standing upon the stairs was the honorable Queen Ygraine, a lady of serving meekly at her side, along with a man of dark hair and a sternly smiling expression. On the queen’s other side was a young man wearing a red cloak and a brightly red tunic. Beside him was a sort of oddly dressed servant she surmised, wearing the most spectacular yet frayed red scarf.

She looked back to the man standing to the other side of him, the one she assumed was the prince. Although he was quite handsome, he also seemed to be smirking quite rudely.

It seemed forever to reach the stairs, her legs feeling heavy and her heart still uncomfortably pounding. As she did, the queen stepped down, with hands extended and an open smile.

“Princess Guinevere. Welcome to Camelot.”

Feeling some of her fears vacate at the warmth in the queen’s voice, Gwen answered, “Thank you so much Your Majesty.”

Ygraine shook her head. “We are to be family. Please…not so formal.”

She gestured, signaling for the others to come down too. “This is my elder brother, Agravaine DuBois.” The queen brought her hand over his saying with gratitude, “He is my advisor too. Has been such a fine help since my husband’s untimely death.”

Gwen couldn’t help notice the prince not looking all that impressed with his mother’s description of his uncle.

Agravaine clasped Gwen’s hand with a smile that made his lips curl smoothly. “It is such a pleasure to have you here.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Gwen answered with politeness, feeling a trickle of uneasiness. Snatching a quick glance towards the prince she noticed he too wasn’t smiling for a fraction of a second before he slid in that look of charming again, oblivious to what was going on around him if Gwen wasn’t mistaken.

The queen lifted her hand, getting the prince’s attention now fully.

“And this is Arthur. My son. Arthur, this is Princess Guinevere.”

He scrutinized her for a moment, his expression wavering just a bit as if earlier he had been under the influence, making Gwen curious as also her nerves edged up on her. Then without any forewarning, his hand was finding hers and he was lifting it to his lips, pressing the most discreet kiss upon her skin, as his mouth elicited, “Welcome to Camelot, Princess Guinevere. I’m sure you’ll find it…interesting.”

His voice was filled of saccharine politeness, his eyes were sorely mocking. Gwen disengaged from him as quickly she could without making a scene.

Then clearing her throat, she gestured to the man who had accompanied her. “This is Sir Percival. He’ll be staying for the night if it is alright. The trip was long. He’s a Knight of Tirmaiur and also my friend.”

Gwen noticed Arthur making impolite sounds under his breath. She gave him a frowning look which he returned for a flash before turning away.

_Really_ , he had the manners of a pig. It didn’t matter that his hair glowed like sunlight and his eyes were as soaring blue as that of an ocean. He was acting distastefully.

“Of course he will stay as an honored guest.” Ygraine answered.

Arthur looked around now with focused analysis, asking bluntly, “Don’t you have any others traveling with you? Not even a tending lady? My mother would probably be lost without one.” He jested.

Ygraine’s face displayed displeasure with his abrupt remark. Gwen answered with a touch of embarrassment, “Prince Arthur, my kingdom has had some hardships of late, as I thought you were aware of. Perhaps not. I have done my best to take care of what I can on my own so as not to require an attending lady and such.”

Ygraine replied with reassurance. “Of course. Now that will all be remedied. I already have a serving lady in mind whom will be happy to attend to you and your needs.”

Gwen noticed how Arthur kept quietly watching her, his carefully contained expression not giving away much. To not feel his gaze anymore she turned to the queen, “Thank you…your Majesty.” It was twofold gratitude because the queen’s friendly and responsive demeanor started to assure her that Tirmaiur would be safely guarded.

As drinks were passed and conversation got started, Agravaine momentarily excused himself, entering the queen’s chambers in private for a short moment, and returning before anyone could notice his absence.

Anyone that is but one person.

***

“She’s lovely!” Merlin let out excitedly.

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin dressed him for the banquet they’d be having that evening as a celebration of the bonding of their two kingdoms, honoring Princess Guinevere’s arrival. “Then why don’t _you_ marry her?”

 

“Can’t. I’m not royalty!”

Arthur grunted, wondering where Elaine was and if she would be attending. He had suggested that she and his other friends do so.

Soon enough he stopped focusing on all that though as Merlin was once again doing _it_. He had been right to be wary when his mother gave him that look in the hallway, right to not trust his new servant who once again was clumsily fussing around the room with enough enthusiasm for a flock of geese. It was just so odd. He tripped over just about everything, but somehow he also moved terribly fast and got everything done with not only the rapidity of a roadrunner, but also with the gleaming smile of a chipmunk.

Arthur had been sure that every little trap he set, like assuring that he had to tend to his bed linens more than once in an hour, complaining about a bath now twice, and even doing his little flying saucer trick would pull at Merlin’s last straw, but nope. The saucer flew right by his head without even nicking at his dark spiky hair, the bed linens were laundered so fast that Arthur literally jumped with shock when Merlin returned with them sparkling clean, and his bathwater took less than mere moments to suddenly be satisfyingly warm. Even that he attempted to complain about, but it was no use after Merlin saw his excited and shocked smile at the sweet rush of heat.

“Whoa!” _And there IT happened again._ The fireplace independently sparked to life right when he was rubbing his arms, as he was akin to do often, feeling a draft anytime the fireplace lost its flaming luster. “Explain that.”

“What?”

“The fireplace.” Arthur gestured to how high it was burning now, ascending so much it was almost frightening.

Merlin just smiled with that chipmunk grin. “I just stoked it Sire.”

Arthur shook his head, thinking he maybe had way too much to drink that afternoon. His eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Why don’t you like her?” Merlin asked, shocking Arthur as no servant ever talked to him about his life in general. It wasn’t really right to, but in seconds he felt compelled to answer.

“It’s not that I don’t like her. She’s actually…well uniquely lovely…like you said. Just, wears really poor looking clothes for a princess. Elaine dresses better than her.”

“Who’s Elaine?” Merlin asked curiously.

Arthur thought maybe he should remind him that he should be doing his job, not asking questions, but Merlin _was_ doing his job, getting his jacket on now with clumsy quick efficiency, making Arthur’s head feel funny. “She’s the lady I’ve been seeing.”

Merlin cocked his head to the side with a grin. “Well now that’s over.”

“Is it? Don’t be so sure Merlin.”

To that Merlin gave an unhappy glare. Arthur stumbled backward some, feeling like a dragon was getting ready to attack, but that was stupid because dragons no longer existed. They died out years ago and now there were just a handful of mages around who were more tricksters than anything, magic always such a feeble and weak thing.

“You’ll be married to her. You should treat her right. Like I always did with Freya.”

Okay, now Arthur was interested. “Who’s Freya?”

Merlin finished up with his new master’s belt, answering sadly, “Someone I loved.”

“Something happened to her?

“She died.”

He hadn’t expected that. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“So treat her right.” Merlin told him sharply before going off to fix other things in the room. Arthur said nothing, even though regularly he would yell at his servant for just walking off.

But then as he felt chilled again the fire all of the sudden sparked to life once more.

Merlin’s cheeky smile followed. “Stoked it again.”

Right.

***

“Ready?” Percival offered her his arm as Gwen was suited up, having had a nice warm bath and dressed with the help of her new handmaiden, Mary, now wearing the second of her three gowns she had brought. She feared that it would be much less than what the ladies attending would be wearing tonight, but it would have to do. Having to find her courage a second time this trying day, she smiled up at Percy, taking his offered arm.

Sensing her nervousness, Percival patted her arm as he escorted her through the hallway and down the stairs to where the banquet would be held.

Halfway there, they met up with the queen. Gwen noticed that she had a small glass vial she was pocketing into her cloak.

“Your Majesty.”

Ygraine took her other arm kindly, stunning in a dark red gown that made her hair look like it was golden fire.

“We are to be family now, remember? Call me Ygraine.” The queen insisted.

Gwen shook her head, unable to. Ygraine laughed softly, and told both Gwen and Percival she’d see them again inside the banquet. They’d be announced so wait for the introduction.

Percival rubbed her arm, Gwen’s nervousness back again. He did his best to reassure with a comforting smile that a happy nurturing bear would give. “It’ll be fine.”

Gwen wasn’t so sure.

***

Elaine was just a few tables down with the rest of his noble friends, most from neighboring kingdoms, Arthur noted before the princess’s introduction. He wished he could sit with them instead of having his mother on one side and soon the princess on the other.

As Princess Guinevere was announced he could hear snickers from his friends’ table. Once again she was sorely underdressed, wearing a pale blue gown. Merlin was indeed right. The princess was lovely, quite naturally.

But the dress did her little justice, really was quite poor for Camelot’s fine tastes. When she came to sit with him, his uncle and mother, he gave her a cordial greeting that lacked luster, getting a _discreetly_ placed sour look in return. It offset him a bit just like Merlin kept making him feel not on balance. He was used to women being so gaga over him that they always giggled and gave smiles that were like the thickest lumps of sugar. Here, he was actually being reproached. It didn’t exactly make him happy, but it did raise his notice of her.

After dinner came the expected dance. Merlin gave him a toothy smile of expectance and happiness. Arthur looked away from it with a glare. Then taking Guinevere’s hand, they entered the circle of dancers. He knew what was expected, had been through the routine enough times to understand how dance at a gathering was conducted. Interestingly enough too it seemed the princess did also. Maybe she dressed poorly, but her style of dance was quite engaging, experienced.

Passing hand to hand with her and the others, he noticed Elaine and his friends coming into the fray soon enough. Nothing wrong with that he thought as the minstrels played on. He noticed too how Elaine and her girlfriend kept giving the princess’s dress cursory looks, before letting out little titters. Then his male mates would chuckle under their breaths. The princess, although put off by it, did no more than keep her chin up.

***

Gwen stepped out from the banquet, needing to feel the air of nature. The first dance had actually been quite alluring. Her intended had been obviously schooled in festive dance and was quite an engaging partner, that is until his friends joined the fray. Then the attention he had been giving her suddenly faded and with all their snickers she began to feel like some ridiculous joke.

“Hey.” Someone else stepped onto the balcony with her.

Gwen turned to the knight, letting out a brave smile before she launched into his arms, the day already too long, and the banquet one she was enjoying little of. It made her feel sorely homesick once again.

Percival held her protectively. “Gwen. Come on.”

She looked up to his worried eyes, attempting a brave smile so his concern would depart, but it couldn’t last very long. She had never felt so out of place in her life. And once Percival was gone, it would probably only feel worse. “I’m fine. I just…I…didn’t know it would be like this.”

Percival turned his back with definitiveness. “That’s it. I’m telling the queen-

Gwen cut him off as the queen was the one person she counted fully as an ally. She didn’t want to start anything that might hinder that or interfere with the safekeeping of Tirmaiur. “No. They’re petty. Don’t bother the queen with such. She will think little of me. I’m really fine. I just needed some air. I started to feel kind of shut in there.”

Percival looked skeptical so Gwen rounded her hand over his shoulder, having to stand up higher to reach fully for Percival was so tall. “ _I’m fine_ I’ll be in within a moment.”

“Alright.” He left her at that finally.

Gwen let out a deep breath after his departure. It was going to be a long night…and maybe even a long union. A lonely one.

***

Finding him with his friends, Percival spoke through their laughter. “Can I have a moment with you Sire?”

Arthur turned around at that big _bear_ that Guinevere called her friend. Not a single knight of Camelot was as big as this man. He nodded. “Sure.”

“Outside. Would that be alright Sire?” Percival asked politely.

Arthur shrugged and followed him out the doors that were opposite of where Gwen was standing.

***

“Hello!”

So distraught she didn’t even hear him at first, but then once again the cheery greeting rang out behind her. Gwen turned this time, seeing Arthur’s brightly dressed servant standing there. His smile was as wide as the moon’s crest this night. She found herself instantly reacting to it.

“Oh Hello. You’re Merlin, yes?” The queen had introduced them earlier, a woman who firmly believed the help were as special as any noble in the kingdom, something Gwen and her father too believed.

“Yeah. Merlin.” He brought out his thin scarecrow shaped hand, shaking hers happily.

“I’m Gwen.” She told him warmly.

“Sorry.” Merlin fussed nervously now, bringing his hand away. “I just saw you out here. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Just wanted to say hello, Princess.”

She shook her head. “Just Gwen is fine. Really.”

And that moon crest grin came back.

***

As soon as they were outside Arthur suddenly found his back against the balcony uncomfortably. He noticed with a bit of wariness how Percival had easily taken the other side that led back to the banquet with rapid control.

“So, you wanted to speak to me?” He kept his voice nonplussed even as he couldn’t help but notice the bulge of muscle coming through Percival’s tightly worn black tunic.

Percival nodded, giving a slight bow. “Yes Sire. You see Prince Arthur, I realize that your kingdom is much bigger than mine, much richer than mine, and much less in need of this bond than mine is. But you see too Prince Arthur, Gwen’s heart is bigger than all of that.”

Arthur squinted with question. “Gwen?”

“Princess Guinevere.”

“Ah. Should have known. You’re mad because of what went on in there.”

“Do you even know where she is?”

Arthur shrugged indifferently. “Should I?”

“Ah…Sire.” Percival let out before he grabbed Arthur’s arm so hard the prince let out a gasp. “Yes. _You should_. If you’re going to be her husband. Now I know we owe you much. But I am telling you…best not to hurt her.”

Arthur sighed, finding himself asking automatically, “Is she alright?”

Percival lessened the hold on his arm some with that question. “She will be. If your friends think they can break her in one night, they’re in for a rude awakening. Wait for her to astound you. She’s much more than she may first seem. She’s _*cherished*_ in Tirmaiur. Just remember that.”

Percival then straightened out Arthur’s attire, giving a polite smile. “Such a wonderful banquet. Thank you for your time Prince Arthur.”

“Sure…er…I guess.”

Percival left him with that.

Arthur held onto the balcony, thoughtful, before he reentered the banquet hall.

Gwen was going back to the table when she heard another low muttered snicker, carefully done to not reach the queen’s ears, directed pointedly at her. Merlin grimaced hard at her side, his fingers flexing with anger. She feared he might actually do something when she felt warm pressure from behind, an arm linking with hers and a voice stating quietly without question, “That’s enough. From all of you.”

Gwen looked up, seeing Arthur’s eyes on his friends with reproach. He looked angry, troubled. She pressed her palm against his wrist, smiled a little and whispered, “Thank you.”

His eyes came down to hers, softening just a touch as he whispered back. “No need for it. We’re to be married after all.”

From afar Percival smiled with approval.

Merlin grinned. He knew her _loveliness_ would start getting to him.

Ygraine too noticed, feeling a touch of relief in her heart, and a weight of concern slightly lifted.

But not all were happy about the shared look between the young prince and princess. Plenty glared actually. Especially one, one with glowing eyes of malice.

One who had secretly taken the queen’s vial and altered the ingredients.

 

***

Continued…  



	2. Meetings of Fate

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**Part Two:** _This Precarious Charade_

One week later the wedding day had arrived. It amazed Gwen how rapidly the time had passed since the banquet. Much of it was spent with the queen, attending council meetings, accompanying her on making the rounds of Camelot, and meeting those she hadn’t yet. After a week of this, Gwen found herself fully in admiration of the elder woman. It would seem that with her porcelain complexion and delicately boned body that she would be easy to trifle with. Gwen saw a few foolish nobles from other kingdoms the past week actually try to take the advantage, with sweeping loss. Although soft spoken, Ygraine was strong and regally aware of matters of kingdom. It impressed Gwen very much.

Gwen was still not sure what to make of Ygraine’s elder brother, Agravaine, the man whose hair was thick as black oil and whose slight disapproving smile seemed to always be there, plastered to his lips. He attended every council meeting and had his own chair in the throne room where he shared counsel with the queen. Sometimes Gwen had to wonder how much the queen truly needed it. She knew she was sort of haggard for various reasons, but Agravaine’s advice didn’t always seem the best for Camelot. Of course she never mentioned this to anyone, not wanting to make her new home situation a prickly one.

Then there was Arthur Pendragon, the young handsome man she would be marrying in just a few short hours. There was no doubt of his striking looks, and the night of the banquet he had truly touched her with his kindness when he quietly, but firmly let his friends know that their rudeness to her would not be tolerated. After that short interaction Arthur did talk to her at the banquet, stayed by her side most the time, but she could feel his interest drift too and the conversation was so trivial that she learned little of importance about her future husband.

Actually, what vital bits she did know, she gathered after the banquet, like how he had a penchant for drinking and spent quite a bit of time away from the castle. He would come back from wherever it was he went to, breath smelling of alcohol, only then his mood light.

As soon to be crown prince it made him in charge of the knights, but often it was Sir Leon who took over that role as Arthur was hard to be found. And when he did actually assume his role, there was quite a bit of tension between him and some of the knights. Oh yes, from the first time she viewed knight practice with the queen, when Arthur was in charge, there was no doubt he was a superior swordsman, but his manner was something else entirely. His mind rarely seemed focused on the task, and so the knights responded to him with a wall of distrust that they cleverly hid from the queen.

Her own home was in danger of deterioration and had a military force so beleaguered it was barely strong enough to deal with outside threats. But Camelot it seemed was threatened by its own interior, tiny little cracks in what was supposed to be the grandest kingdom of all. And much of it seemed to center around her future husband’s belligerence and maybe even that odd man, Agravaine, having too much influence over the queen and Camelot’s rule.

“Guinevere, do you mind?”

It was the queen, dressed as elegantly as ever in a sculpted dress of blue sparkle and her hair coiled ever so intricately atop her head. Right away Gwen curtsied, before remembering. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Ygraine just smiled, glancing down at the pale rose dress Gwen intended to wear. “That’s lovely.”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s alright I suppose. Barely enough for a wedding. Plenty for their snickers.” She added under her breath, sorry after she actually stated it.

Ygraine nodded with a wrench of her brows. “As I saw at the banquet. Also saw Arthur defending you quite rightly. One of the moments I was most proud of my son, because that is the boy he was before his father’s death.”

“I’m sorry.” Gwen whispered, not sure what much more to say.

Ygraine sighed, holding her hands out and clasping Gwen’s. “No. _I’m_ sorry. If anyone treats you like that again I implore you to seek my assistance. Arthur’s friends have not been invited to the wedding. He’s not terribly happy about it, but so be it. I will not have that kind of rudeness being thrown at you.”

Ygraine continued in Gwen’s silence. “Your father should be here any moment. I’m so glad he could attend. Oh Guinevere, I am sorry if this has felt like you never had a choice. You see I didn’t have one either. The Lady Elaine, no matter what Arthur may think now, would never be a suitable ruler of Camelot. You, on the other hand, I have already seen bonding with the people. Just like you do in Tirmaiur. And I know Arthur will see that too and his feelings will change. He is good, gentle, loving. But he is troubled. Has been for some time. All that I ask is you give him a chance.”

Gwen understood now that the queen wanted to give her son someone who would be good at his side…someone she hoped he would share caring feelings and political beliefs with. The problem was Gwen entered this union for a very different reason and on top of that, she wasn’t as convinced that Arthur would change his feelings about her.

“Queen Ygraine. Please know I respect you so much. But this…marrying and living in Camelot, I do for Tirmaiur more than anything, my Dad.”

Ygraine nodded her head sadly. “I know that Guinevere. I know too that much of this may seem unfair, but I give you my word. Your father and Tirmaiur will continue to be safely guarded even if this union in the end should be fraught with problems. Just I want you both to try. I saw it that night. Arthur cares.”

“Barely.” Gwen let out dryly, before remembering who she was with. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No. I want you to say what you think. And maybe you’re right, but a trickle of caring is better than none.”

Gwen laughed softly, before feeling the queen’s thin arms come out to wrap her in them kindly.

“I’m so happy you’re going to be with my son now. I know you two will make this work.”

Gwen simply nodded.

Letting go of her, Ygraine went out into the hall and reentered the room with it under her arm. “I want you to know I have no issue with the dress you intend to wear. It’s as lovely as you. But you seem not that happy with it and so I thought that maybe…”

Gwen walked over to Ygraine, fingers grazing delicately over the pearly gathers of material, lips parting with surprise. “It’s so…beautiful.”

“It’s well made, certainly. As for its beauty that could only come from its wearer. It’s your choice Guinevere. It was made especially for you. I was able to get your measurements when I was in Tirmaiur. I’m sure if you’d rather marry Arthur in the dress you’re wearing now, this one could serve purpose at some function.”

It must have taken hours to make and the thick layers of fabric were the finest, imported Gwen surmised. It would be rude to not accept it as the gracious gift it was. But honestly too she loved its eloquence. She couldn’t picture a better dress to be married in. “Thank you. Of course I’ll wear it.”

***

“She had no right.” Arthur complained robustly as Merlin fit him with his attire for the ceremony, dark pants, red tunic, chainmail, cape and crown.

To that Merlin gave a shrug as he adjusted the prince’s armor with speed not usually akin to someone new to the task. “She is your mother, the queen.”

Arthur fixed his eyes on Merlin angrily. “You’re supposed to be on my side. You know. _My_ servant.”

Merlin chuckled at that, shaking his head. “You really are a prat sometimes.”

“ _EXCUSE_ me?” Arthur asked with vigor.

Merlin amended a touch nervously, his mouth unable to contain itself completely though. “Well a _royal_ …prat.”

Arthur shocked again before letting out a round of laughter. “Merlin, you’re like no other servant I’ve ever had.”

“Good, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Ugliest too.”

“Hey!”

Arthur chuckled again, before returning to his point of objection. “She’s already making me marry this princess. Shouldn’t I at least be able to have some mates around for the event?”

Merlin gave him a sharp look. “That would mean the Lady Elaine would be in attendance.”

“So.”

He started tying the cape, getting Arthur to rant as he knotted it tightly at his neck.

“Merlin!”

“Sorry.” Merlin remarked dryly, fixing the ties and then telling Arthur soberly, “Don’t you think it would be awkward for Gwen, er, the Princess Guinevere, to have her attend also? She’s going to be your wife. Her feelings should come first. Freya and I came so close to it, marriage. I couldn’t even think of another.”

“You’ve talked about her enough times. How did she die?”

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

Arthur let out a breath of air, used to Merlin’s secrecy now. “Okay. Well Merlin, I know you two have already gotten close. But it’s my mother _forcing_ me into this marriage. I don’t want it.”

“She probably doesn’t either.”

Arthur smiled. “Well then there you go. Why pretend?”

It was the last thing. Merlin fixed the crown upon Arthur’s head, saying sternly, “She’s going to honor it. Question is… _will you?”_

Arthur stared, opening his mouth to yell at his servant that he was the one who was supposed to have the last word, to give the orders, to make the other feel uncomfortable. But with that one question…Merlin perfectly put him in a troublesome place.

“Will you my Son?”

Merlin turned around, seeing the queen enter the room. She smiled at him cordially, quite pleased with his work so far, and not so surprised by that. Merlin took his labors seriously, but added his own unique spin also, keeping Arthur on his toes no doubt. She could even tell that begrudgingly Arthur rather liked Merlin and respected him.

Merlin quietly excused himself, receiving another smile from the well-dressed queen as Arthur sighed, moving to the window.

Looking down upon the kingdom, the prince could see far in the distance the noble house where Elaine lived. He supposed now that this marriage would be happening within moments, he’d have to see her in private.

Was that dishonoring his marriage if his wife never found out?

Hands touched his shoulders. Seeing the white porcelain of them he closed his eyes momentarily. “I’m marrying her, am I not? What more do you want Mother?”

Ygraine reached for his arm, turning him around, noticing how he was fussing with the ties and medallion of his cape. She smiled, reaching for them and pushing his hand away. “You’re just like your father when wearing one of these. Acting like it’s the biggest irritant ever.”

He grimaced tightly. “Well it is.”

She nodded quietly, fixing it into place so that he shouldn’t need to wriggle it around anymore with distaste, at least not for a few hours. When she was done, she fixed a stern motherly gaze upon him.

Arthur shifted from one foot to another under her stare, guessing that this was not going to be the most trivial conversation. “You don’t like what I said to Merlin.”

She shook her head. “No I don’t. Merlin is right. This is not easy for Guinevere. The night of the banquet Arthur I was so proud of you, taking her under your wing as you should. You were a man of chivalry, so much like your father. But am I to believe that the vows that you make today, you have no intention of honoring? Did your father and I not teach you well about the value of marriage?”

Arthur sighed, moving around the room restlessly, and then standing stiffly against his black adder bedpost. He glanced at the bed for a moment, giving a small shiver. He was sure it was because of the draft in the room, not any nervousness about what was to come. “You’ve never given Elaine a chance. You’re not even allowing her to attend tonight.”

Ygraine laughed dryly. “And you’re surprised? After the way she and the rest of your friends acted? I saw how it troubled you that night, Arthur. You didn’t like it either. You are doing this because of Camelot, and yes, because I pushed you to it. But do you understand why Guinevere is doing this? Her kingdom is in peril. Or would be without our help. Bayard has been relentless in his conquests of weakened kingdoms. And brutal in how he deals with each one in the aftermath. She was afraid that her father would be captured and killed.”

Arthur frowned more strongly. He had nothing against her really. And it had felt good honestly to lead her away from his friends’ jibes, but his mother’s argument had a weak spot.

“Fine. You say that you care so much about her kingdom. Then Mother, why didn’t we just give them aid? Why the bargain? Pushing me to marry a woman I only met days ago and still know pretty much nothing about. I don’t want this marriage; you seem to think it can make everything better, but it’s not going to. I don’t love this woman. It’s Elaine who I want to be with.”

“And who you love?” Ygraine asked pointedly, thinking that her son made a seemingly valid point. She could have offered aid to Tirmaiur freely, but it wouldn’t have been as bolstered as it needed to be. No kingdom ever gave that kind of help so liberally without fretting for its own future. Bayard’s power was growing in increments that were ominously frightening. She and Camelot’s allies believed with almost certainty that he had help coming from the inside. And there was a personal aspect to this too that someday her son would understand.

Arthur admittedly had no easy answer to that question. Elaine was fun. Love, well, he didn’t totally comprehend. “I don’t know, but since you never gave it a chance, how am I supposed to?”

Ygraine sighed, bringing her hands around her son’s shoulders. “Oh Arthur, she is not the kind of woman who would be right for you.”

He started to rail, but she put her hand up. Arthur pouted while she continued.

“I don’t just mean about kingdom. You pretend you’re not, but always you have been very sensitive. Get that from me. I don’t think Elaine shares that kind of sensitivity.”

He gritted his teeth. “And you think Guinevere does?”

To that Ygraine quickly nodded her head. “I know she does. She is caring of the people in Tirmaiur and she is already becoming familiar to those in Camelot.”

He had seen it, in little bits, when sneaking back from the tavern or attending to his knight duty because he couldn’t miss it all the time, especially when his mother was in the audience. Children reacted to the princess with smiles. The elderly clasped her hands and she clasped theirs. No doubt to it, Guinevere seemed to have a good heart. But what it all came down to was this marriage was his mother’s idea. He saw no reason why he should be punished because he preferred to be with someone she didn’t like.

So with that thought, he moved away from her, steeling himself from the sad face his mother made when her hands had no place but to fall to her sides.

“Well you seem fonder of her Mother than you feel about me right now. Perhaps you should have had a daughter.”

“Arthur-

He shook his head, before speaking with grits of anger, “I’ll marry her. But don’t expect it to be more than a marriage on a roll of parchment. And I will be sure not to disgrace the family name. But I’m also not going to relinquish my happiness. Take from that what you will.”

Ygraine rubbed her forehead, feeling wearied for more than one reason. Holding Arthur’s bedpost, she stumbled for a second.

He rushed forward, forgetting any inkling of anger, grasping her arm. “Mother?”

She smiled a fraction, pressing her hand against his. “I’m fine. Just disappointed.”

He let go at that, feeling his anger surge again, combined with a degree of really annoying guilt.

“No good can come from a marriage without trust and care. I hope you remember that Arthur. I will see you when the ceremony begins.”

Ygraine walked out of his chambers with that and Arthur sagged down to his bed, thrusting the irritating crown away and rustling his hair with his hands.

This was going to be a long bothersome day. And he didn’t even want to think of the night.

***

“Ready?”

Gwen smiled bravely, pressing into her father’s arms one last time before everything could begin. “Oh Dad, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Tomas moved his hands into his daughter’s hair comfortingly, careful not to muss up its curling arrangement. “Of course I am. And Gwen, you need to know, I feel so blessed to have a daughter like you. I’ve pushed you to this and-

She shook her head, dressed eloquently now in the pearly material, her shoulders bared just slightly, the heart shaped neckline revealing her womanly form tastefully. “No. I wanted to do this. I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t the first choice, but Queen Ygraine has been wonderful. It’s fine, really.”

“And the prince?” Tomas asked with a wrinkle forming at his brow.

Gwen hesitated, her thoughts going to her future husband with doubt and misgivings. Of course she didn’t see Arthur often, the recall _lowlight_ catching him swaying down the hallways late at night.

Thankfully there was Merlin. From that night of the banquet she felt a special kinship with him.

It alleviated too some of the troubled feelings she had about Lancelot. That was such a complicated issue. Gwen prided herself on living in the moment and being honorable to the present situation. When she agreed to marry Arthur, in her heart, she also let Lancelot go after that horrible argument they had. But if she searched deep she knew that her relationship with Lancelot, the brave dashing knight of Tirmaiur, had been bolstered entirely by friendship. She knew him since she was a child and he a few years older, had always been looking out for her welfare. Lancelot was so dear at protecting her always.

Sometimes she enjoyed that. Sometimes it stifled her. Especially when he grew to the age where romance factored in he started looking at her _that_ way. She was still a bit young for it all, but enjoyed being paid attention to so specially. And then when she reached an age where she could fully appreciate his feelings, as he stated them with heart in hand just months ago, she realized as much as she liked being thought of romantically, she didn’t _entirely_ feel that way for him. And so she told Lancelot this and he was alright with it, happy with the challenge to get her to change her feelings.

They shared kisses, holding of hands, sweet things, and she did consider him someone _very_ special in her life, but it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t exactly equally shared.

And so getting away from Tirmaiur wasn’t entirely something she was upset about. She cemented herself to starting a new life with new members of family. Brought up to honor all kinds of vows, that of the crown, and that of marriage, Gwen came into this to save her father, but she wanted everything to be complete. She didn’t want a marriage with troubles from the past, which was why she ended things entirely with Lancelot. The greatest sadness for her before coming to Camelot was seeing his angered and pained face when they had their last words with each other.

And maybe the greatest sadness now would be to never share a bond with her future husband.

“I’m sure I’ll get to know him better.” She finally told her father, pushing away all thoughts, but to this day, marrying Arthur Pendragon.

Her father didn’t look exactly pleased by that, but Gwen knew they didn’t have much time before the wedding was set to begin so she simply reassured him that everything would be okay, so in the end he relented. Holding his arm out to her, his hand going over hers tenderly, he escorted her out into the hallway so it could begin, a marriage of mutual benefit.

***

Arthur dully listened to one bit of protocol after another as Sir Geoffrey kept rambling. He had spoken his vows with no trouble at all. The princess actually stumbled some on his name, middle parts confusing her for a moment. He latched his fingers around hers and squeezed her hand then, which seemed to fix her stutter.

“You are now married.”

That was the last bit from Geoffrey and Arthur knew what was expected. Time to put on the grand show he supposed. Camelot was a kingdom of such prestige and notice that no noble occasion went without deep scrutiny and attention.

So he turned to his wife, as strange as that sounded, recalling for a moment his stir of feeling as she entered the throne room earlier. To put it bluntly, she had fixed herself up. Merlin was right. She was lovely, not your typical beauty, something he noticed from their first meeting actually. Only now it was more starkly evident.

Her skin was much darker than Elaine’s, like if solar power had dribbled in some of its gold into it. He was getting deeper glimpses of it this day since the dress let the top of her shoulders go bare and the neckline plunged some. Accenting that were the dark curls that just touched her skin, and framed her small angled face.

Giving a sigh, that only she caught and looked disappointed at, he pulled her hands in against his waist, catching her tiny little gasp of surprise. Time to get to the spectacle’s highlight; she had to know it was coming. Lowering his head and slanting his shoulders, her stature not one of great height, Arthur pressed his lips against hers. He could feel her retreat some and he cursed the erratic flurries of cold that regularly invaded his body.

After a moment though of his lips still rounding hers with mostly utter politeness, and maybe an inkling of desire, _{he wasn’t a dummy knight, and she wasn’t made out of wood either}_ , he felt her advance more. When her pearly material clad breasts made contact with his chest, he inadvertently shook a bit, affected, once again summing it up to the general feelings of man and woman. Physical contact, of course he’d react.

A few breathless moments more and Arthur ended the kiss, pulling away to see her eyes watching him heavily. She looked entirely uncertain. It wasn’t easy marrying a virtual stranger, kissing them in front of everyone, knowing they were expecting much. It was something that whether planned or not, they now shared in. Smiling as reassuringly he could, Arthur brought his arm though hers and to everyone’s applause they walked down the aisle together.

United in the awkwardness of it all.

***

It was one dance after another, the minstrels playing loudly and with vigor for it was a night of celebration, the bonding of two kingdoms and two of their very own. The dances were lively and there were so many people, raising glasses, moving their bodies to the music, dancing in the traditional circling styles.

The room holding the celebration was large, surrounded with decorations. The feeling in the room was heavy from the flames of the hanging chandeliers and torches, plus the circumstance of so many people being together.

Feeling claustrophobic after hours of dancing so much and talking to people she barely knew the names of, Gwen escaped to the balcony. There she gripped the railing with her hands, raising her head to feel the evening’s gentle drifts against her flushed face.

“Alright?”

She turned around, seeing Arthur, his eyes questioning and ever so blue under the moon’s glow. As she attempted to smile he came closer. “This is kind of overwhelming, isn’t it?”

She let out a long contained sigh, giving a laugh. “Yes. So overwhelming”

He ran his hand over hers for a minute before pulling away. “So what is Tirmaiur like?”

Gwen mused with fondness. “It’s not as close to the ocean as Camelot, but it has winding rivers and little sparkling ponds. It’s much older, much smaller, and even the farmer’s houses don’t compare to Camelot’s, but they are lovely in their own unique way. We have no balconies like this one.” She ran her fingers over the garnished stone. “But our smaller castle is precious enough, each crack filled with stories of old.”

He slowly nodded his head. “You miss it?”

“Yes…of course.” Gwen let out with fervor. “I miss the people. My Dad. Just glad he could be here today. I haven’t seen him in what seems so long.”

“Anyone else?”

Gwen’s brow wrinkled for a moment, but when his eyebrows lifted some she got his meaning and once again, like earlier that day her mind thought of Lancelot, reflections tangled with conflict. “Oh. There was someone special, yes. But it changed when I came here. Honestly, I…don’t know if I shared the total of his feelings exactly.”

She was a bit surprised by his question since he hadn’t asked her anything personal before, but thankful for it and Arthur’s friendliness now. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So he loved you?”

“Yes.” Gwen let out softly.

Arthur nodded, touching her hand. “Reason I ask is…there’s someone else for me too. Don’t get me wrong. You’re lovely, Princess Guinevere.” He lifted her hand, pressed his lips against the back of it. Then brusquely he got to the gist of what he wanted to say.

“But like you didn’t want this marriage, I didn’t either.”

Her brow wrinkled, her expression unhappy and her hand stiff in his. He’d been drinking quite a bit this night and though he wasn’t anywhere near drunk, she could see that he was warmed by the liquor, lazed by it. Maybe that was because he didn’t want to think of his new reality. Her. That was _not_ a nice thought.

“So we’ll do what we have to for the people, right? Please my mother and your father and all that. But we’ll both know it’s just a charade.”

His eyes were fixedly on hers. She had felt something earlier from the wedding kiss. Now she just felt cold, his skin chilling hers so that she pulled away from his hand’s icy grasp.

“Right. _A charade_. For you have no feelings for me whatsoever.”

Gwen turned away from him, and saying nothing else, so bothered by his actions and lack of respect for even marriage itself, she reentered the banquet hall, no longer caring that its air was so stifling. At least it wasn’t frigid like him.

Arthur watched her go, hand going out for a second to stop her, but then he lowered it slowly and turned away, gripping the balcony just like she had. Going after her would only make things worse. Better for her to understand that he never wanted this in the first place. He had someone else. So did she. So this union was basically for show, something they’d do no more than endure.

***

The evening passed by. She avoided engaging in dance with him most the rest of the night. It was at a certain point where she felt herself yawning, that the knights and some of the attending ladies covertly made it known that they would not mind if they felt like escaping for their first evening together. Gwen felt herself blushing at that, but instead of with excitement, dread soaked into her. Arthur said nothing, just doing his best to avoid any innuendo.

They arrived at his chambers, together, alone. As he opened the door, politely gesturing for her to go in first, she couldn’t help notice how decorated the adjoining rooms were with white flowers and creamy ivory glowing candles. Arthur grimaced. “Merlin’s doing. Not mine.”

“Of course not.”

After the balcony she wished she could just flee.

Arthur watched as she walked over to some of the flowers, taking a whiff and closing her eyes with emotion.

“Do you like flowers?” He asked curiously.

She slowly reopened her eyes. “Wild ones, yes. Like these.”

He walked over and took her hand, clasping it within his. “Guinevere, nothing needs to happen tonight. I know it’s all still so awkward.”

She flippantly added, “And nothing of it matters anyway. I’m of no concern to you. I’m just… _part of the charade._ ”

She stepped away, obviously affected and so Arthur pulled, feeling her come in against him as he stated strongly, “I didn’t mean it that way, alright? I’m not an uncouth oaf. The manners my parents taught me didn’t all fade when my father died.”

As soon as he said that, a trickle of trembling entered his voice. Spontaneously she touched his cheek, feeling a connection for still it was not easy to be without her mother, even though she lost her when she was so young.

He caught her hand, bringing it down, feeling some tightness in his chest, before he cleared his throat. “I don’t intend to hurt you. Your feelings _do_ matter.”

She glanced down at the bed, feeling a tremble of excitement, of dread, and of disappointment. For that bed would not really have any meaning if they never intended to use it for intimate relations. “I’m tired.” She lied.

He slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. Me too. I’ll just blow out all these candles.”

She caught his hand. “No. They’re nice. Leave a few.”

Her voice came out softly sweet. He couldn’t help but smile. “Alright.” He thought about it. “I didn’t know your preference of flowers. Obviously Merlin did. Queer fellow.”

She turned around, commenting, “Actually I find him quite nice. A friend. And he knew because he asked.”

With that she went behind the changing screen to put on her nightwear. Arthur just sighed, before he readied his own.

***

The bed, adorned in scarlet and golden linens, was big, Gwen noticed, each side their very own, as he was completely on one end and she on the other. She laughed at the absurdity, getting him to turn her way.

“What?”

The candle’s light shined upon his hair, giving it an effulgent glow. “This never happened in the novels I’ve read. The ones that Percival teases me about.”

He pressed his elbow against his pillow, cocking his head to the side and resting his cheek upon his hand. “That’s the man you were talking about earlier, the knight. Percival. I remember-

She put up her hand. “No. The man I meant was Lancelot. He has never come here.”

“Oh.” Arthur fiddled with the blankets. “And so what happens in them, the novels?”

“The woman has to fight the man off practically, because he is so passionate about her. But really she’s having all these feelings too and doesn’t want to admit…she _wants_ him to be passionate. It’s odd. But they’re good for a laugh. And they’re just… _I enjoy them_.”

He smiled with an amused look. “Addicting.”

Gwen shrugged. “Sort of.” Her curls bounced around her neck as she moved more onto her side.

Arthur stared for a moment, and then, “One night, when the heavy rains of winter come, you can read me one.” His eyes gave a look of playfulness, his mouth turning upward a bit.

“Okay.” She simply replied and noticed him shiver. “You do that a lot.”

Arthur groaned, before nodding his head. “Yeah. Have had cold fits since I was a child. Always needs to be a strongly burning fire in the hearth.”

Gwen peered at him curiously. “What brings them on?”

He averted his eyes before giving an abrupt response. “Just I get cold fast I suppose.”

“Hmmm.” She moved away from the bed, feeling his wondering look. Advancing toward the fire she found the poker. Then directing it into the loss of flame she stoked up the cinders of wood, getting it all to spark to life once more. The fire flaming again, she returned to the bed, laying down, closing her eyes and whispering, “Good night…Prince Arthur.”

“We’re married. My name’s Arthur. Good night Guinevere. And…” He felt warmer. It was something personal she just did, something that did matter to him. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly, feeling sleep drifting in as she answered in kind to how he did when he helped that night. “No need to thank me. After all, we’re now married.”

***

Morning came after their wedding with no great occasion. In the days ahead, Mary worked for Gwen, and Merlin tended to Arthur. Gwen continued making the rounds of the kingdom with the queen and sometimes on her own, enjoying meeting with the people, many of them humble hard working individuals. They made her feel more settled into her role as princess wife.

She also looked forward to observing knight practice when she could. Seeing that the men were able fighters assured her Tirmaiur was gaining great assistance. It was a comfort to know that her father and friends should be safe now. Camelot’s knights in combination with Tirmaiur’s would be a formidable force. That wasn’t the only reason she enjoyed watching knight practice. It had excited her in Tirmaiur to see how the men wielded their swords and practiced with their arsenal of fighting tools. Here too it was much the same, which brought familiarity to a new experience.

That didn’t mean Arthur was there any more than he had been before. Quite often still he was absent which she found troubling and shameful. He was not the only person to endure a tragedy. He had a calling he was supposed to be rising up to and instead he was at the tavern she assumed. Of course when the queen was there he almost always was. But the other times rarely. When she asked other knights of his absence, like the soft spoken, but powerful one who lead in Arthur’s absence, Sir Leon, a slew of answers would come out. Honestly, it really didn’t matter where he went. He wasn’t engaging in the strongest duties of prince, instead reaping the benefits of his noble born status.

It was like the troubling mystery of Agravaine. Although the queen seemed to get along with him well, it was becoming obvious, even though they hid it behind tight smiles in the queen’s presence; Arthur did not like his uncle at all, and Agravaine seemed to not be terribly fond of him. Oh, Agravaine was sneakier about it, but the tension was there even when they did something as mundane as pass each other in the hallway. Gwen surmised that Arthur only tolerated his uncle to keep the peace with his mother.

She scanned her hands now, seeing them gathered within, a bushel of pretty little wildflowers given to her by a lovely girl who lived at the kingdom’s edge. She said how she had picked them just for her and Gwen now wanted to make sure they were placed in adequate water. Entering the chambers she shared with Arthur, she saw no sign of him or her attending lady, Mary. Well she’d just get the water from the well herself then. Mary was probably busy with the launderings. No need to trouble her.

A humming voice of happiness rang through. She turned around to see Merlin, carrying an arsenal of armor. She really had no idea had he did it. Merlin was tall, but so skinny. All that armor had to be so heavy. She ran forward to help him and somehow they got sort of tangled into it and both fell to the floor.

She laughed. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry! I was trying to assist you and seems I’ve done worse.”

He chuckled too, putting up his hand in polite friendly dismissal. “No. I’m always falling over my feet. Ask Arthur!”

Gwen’s expression grew pensive. “Well I would like to ask him but during the daylight hours I hardly know where he is.”

Merlin frowned at that, looking uncomfortable and saying nothing.

Gwen pressed her hand against his. “Which is no burden of yours. I’m sorry Merlin.”

She got up from the floor, picking up some of the gleaming armor Merlin had been carrying and placing it down upon the long rectangular table that was adorned with gorgeous intricate carved wood finish upon its legs. She gazed down upon the beautiful armor, seeing how solidly woven into it were designs of such majesty. Too bad its wearer rarely took up his task.

“Flowers.” Merlin picked them up, smiling at her.

She broke away from her reverie. “Yes, a little girl named Lisel gave them to me. I was going to ask Mary to get water for them, but she’s already busy. Would you mind Merlin?”

“Not at all.” He started to leave the room, but then maybe seeing something in her face, “Gwen…”

She looked up questioningly. “Yes?”

He touched her hand gently. “I know that Arthur’s away a lot, and this is probably not my concern. I am a servant. But I can tell he likes you. He’s talked about you a few times.”

Gwen shook her head. “He has? I gather mostly that he’d like to continue this for only one thing, show.”

“Maybe now. But I don’t think he’s always going to be that way. Gwen, you are having an effect on him. You’re having an effect on all of Camelot I think.”

She smiled at that, squeezing his hand. “You’re such a good friend Merlin. I don’t feel so apart with you and the queen, as I do with him. Thank you.”

He rushed out of the room with one last smile and Gwen gazed down at Arthur’s mostly unused armor, sighing.

***

“Finally! The only way I can see you now is hiding in the shadows! Arthur…”

He kissed her luscious lips, before pulling away, too many _mutterings_ going on in his head. Merlin kept giving him disapproving looks. The only time his sometimes brash servant seemed happy was when Arthur talked about Guinevere, which was totally spontaneous. It made sense. After all, she was his wife now. He couldn’t help it.

However, that didn’t mean he wanted to let go of how things were before.

He pressed his finger against Elaine’s bottom lip to cement that now.

“Patience. The first week is past finally. I couldn’t come to you then. It was wrong. But now, things are settling.”

“So we can meet in private, in the night?” She asked, kissing her way down his neck, making Arthur shiver some. It tickled.

_Ah, night_. He couldn’t help think of Guinevere, taking out her book and making him wonder. He didn’t know why. Just whenever she took that leather embellished volume out, he felt himself filled with curiosity, and would ask her questions until sometimes she started to giggle. And the reaction would make him smile. Then there was the next thing that happened every night. It didn’t matter how long she’d been reading. Sometimes he was already even falling asleep. And yet each night she did the same, tiptoed to the fireplace, stoked it until it was flaming again, and then blew out the candlelight on her side, while he blew out the one on his side. He’d always whisper to her then his good night and thank you.

So now what would night mean? Scurrying out of their chambers to meet with his mistress?

It’s what his rebellious soul wanted, but also what he couldn’t help feel a smidgen of shame for. Every night she stoked the fire for him… _every single one_.

Feeling more of Elaine’s kisses, he shook himself out of his abstraction. This was ridiculous. He finally answered her.

“Yes. We can be together. Meet in private. I’ll just always wait until she’s asleep.”

Elaine grinned at that, pressing upon his tunic’s hem. “I was afraid that suddenly things would alter that now you’re married. It makes me feel reassured to know that nothing’s changed at all.

Well that wasn’t totally true. “I should go. I have knighting practice duty today.”

“Oh, just let Leon do it, he’s so good.”

Arthur rounded Elaine’s shoulders and neckline with a grimace, noticing how she moved away slightly from the feel of his fingers. Once again his skin was probably cold. He loosened the grip some. “Elaine, I’ve let Leon do it plenty. He has guard patrol today. And I’m pretty good myself.” He couldn’t help boasting.

She acted with indifference mostly. “I know you are. Good at so many things.” She cooed, trailing her finger up and down his tunic. “But mostly at pleasing me.”

He smiled at that, forgetting his knighting duties for a few more moments as they kissed within a dark hidden area of Camelot’s exterior.

***

It was a few days later that the queen was working in her chambers when Sir Leon rushed in, looking tired and like he had been riding furiously to get back to the kingdom.

“My apologies your majesty, but-

She stood up from her paperwork, shocked, knowing that Leon would never interrupt her unless it was dire. And the way his face was sweating, his skin blotched red, made it plain something of great importance had happened. “No need Sir Leon. What is it?”

“Well you know how I was out on patrol…and…”

She lifted her hand, gesturing for him to get on with it. “Yes…and?”

“There’s word. Bayard has his fifth kingdom, Chenary. He’s already at their borders. It’ll take maybe a few days for him to be in control.”

Ygraine sighed, pressing her hand down upon the table she’d been working at, her heart giving agitated beats. “How? I thought they were receiving aid from Isgard.”

“They were. But it didn’t work. In fact, Isgard fled as soon as they got the warning too. And now they’re…”

His expression looked so cautious that Ygraine pressed for more. “Go on Sir Leon!”

He grimaced tightly. “They’re saying that Camelot is to blame. That we have someone within conducting all this.”

Ygraine’s eyes widened, her expression horrified. “What? Our alliance has always felt it’s been someone from within, but now they suggest it is Camelot?”

“It is not the alliance, Queen Ygraine. Remember, Isgard is sort of on the outskirts, has been threatened by Bayard from the start. Paranoid really. They have suggested it is someone close to the throne.”

Those words made her even more upset. To accuse of such thing meant that either the queen wasn’t doing her job very well, or that she was conspiring against the fragile little alliance they had formed months ago. Both were detrimental and horribly insulting.

Ygraine let out sharply, “My God, Leon, do you think I would not know of that?”

“Your highness-

She put up her hand. “No. I don’t mean you. But this is terrible. Of course another kingdom falling is horrid to hear about. But in addition to that, to think that they believe we are responsible for this? Leon, word like that cannot get out further. It could ruin Camelot. We must silence these rumors.”

“And if there is truth to them?”

Ygraine shook her head furiously. Leon was Camelot’s best and most noble knight, but to entertain such idea, she would not allow. “Bite your tongue Leon. And never say that again.”

He lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I just-

She dismissed his apology as politely as possible, her mind forming with a queen’s order of thought. The council needed to meet, deep into the hours of the night if necessary. This rumor had to be halted. The alliance wasn’t a strong one, full of bickering sorts and others who were antsy about Bayard’s continuing dominance, but it kept Camelot and the other larger kingdoms from having to fight the ruthless ruler.

_Oh_. It all made Ygraine shake with frustration. Bayard was a man of great strength, but also little brain to put it bluntly. And now suddenly he was able to conquer five kingdoms? It made no sense, not unless there was someone working with him. But to suggest it was Camelot? No. There was no way. She would have known.

“Your highness…”

Ygraine focused on Leon again, nodding. “Right. Okay. I will be meeting with the council and I want you to take care of your end. We’ll need to reinforce the military in Tirmaiur, just in case.”

Leon’s look was a haggard and concerned one. “Our forces are strong your majesty, but it is hard. With Prince Arthur-

He cut himself off as she focused on him pointedly, “With Prince Arthur, what?”

“Nothing my Queen.”

She asked him directly, “I know that Arthur is not always tending to his rounds, but he is still training with the knights, is he not?”

Leon had taken it upon himself to make sure the knights were well trained. The queen didn’t need this added bit of trouble. He smiled fractionally. “Of course.”

Ygraine nodded at that. “Good. You may go now. Thank you Leon for all you do for Camelot.”

He gave a slight bow and departed from the queen’s chambers. When he was gone, Ygraine felt a rush of weakness and braced her hand tightly against the table. “Oh. I cannot falter now. I must meet with the council. So many things to do.”

She pushed away from the table, and walked forward, finding it on her dresser. She lifted the vial to her lips, whispering.

“And yet so little time.”

She drank.

***

Gwen returned from doing her rounds to find Arthur there, Merlin assisting him with getting his armor off. She smiled at both of them, gazing upon Arthur longer.

Feeling her eyes so heavily, Arthur asked, “What is it?”

Gwen shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just surprised to see you as you are.”

Merlin grinned at that, exchanging knowing looks with her before turning innocently to the prince, done with pretty much everything. “Alright. You said you wanted to take a bath. I’ll just heat the water.”

Gwen sighed as Merlin moved away from them, going behind the curtain at the south end of their quarters where the wooden tub was. Wiping his sweating hair away from his eyes, Arthur pulled off his tunic, not realizing just how intently Gwen was watching. But when he felt her eyes and knew, automatically he teased. “Want to help?”

Gwen shook her head, blushing furiously. “No. I just-

He laughed. “You are my wife after all.”

She blushed more and he caught her hand, seeming conflicted for a moment, before he whispered with a smile, “You’re quite pretty when you do that.”

“What?”

“Get embarrassed.” He squeezed her hand.

Gwen grimaced slightly, biting her lip at the way his robust chest was gleaming from his exertions. “No. I just-

He finished for her. “You’re surprised to see me in all my gear, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Arthur gave a shrug before stating importantly, “Well I only took over half the time; Leon had some other business to attend to requiring him to leave early. My mother too. She’s been in council for hours.”

Gwen frowned at that, asking with concern, “Is everything alright? Is it Tirmaiur?”

One more time he squeezed her hand with that question. “I’m sure it’s not. She would have let you know if it was. My mother’s quite fond of you.”

Merlin came back around, announcing with a quiet voice, seeming to not want to interrupt them, “Er, the bath water’s ready.”

The turmoil was still in Gwen’s face. Arthur turned back to him, “Give us a minute Merlin.”

That made the servant smile quietly with understanding. “Sure.” He walked out of the shared chambers.

Gwen moved to the window, hands climbing up to her heart, and clasping together there, fingers pressing against her dress’s neckline. “I’ve heard that when Bayard attacks he likes to take his time in killing the rulers. Parading the king or queen’s head as the full climax.”

The words so gruesome, Arthur let out a tight sigh, coming from behind, and reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Guinevere, my mother won’t let that happen, alright?”

She turned to him, stark fear in her eyes. “What if she can’t prevent it? What if Bayard has taken hold of another kingdom, and Tirmaiur is next on his list?”

He frowned, grasping her shoulder tighter, and getting her to flinch.

Arthur lowered his hand. “Sorry. I told you, get these shocks of cold. That’s why I like taking a hot bath.” He smiled. “Ask Merlin. He has to heat the water to near boiling before I’m satisfied.”

Guinevere didn’t smile in return, looking towards the southern end of the room, and telling him, “That’s right. You were going to take a bath. I’ll just go.”

Arthur grimaced with confusion. “Where? Why?”

She gestured forward. “Because you’re going to need your privacy. I’m your wife, but we know that’s just a charade so I might as well leave.”

She turned to go. Seeing that she was still clearly upset, Arthur grasped her arm. “Guinevere-

She shook her head, cutting him off. “No. I like to walk down by the river in the daylight hours. There are still a few. It calms me to be there. Reminds me of home. Lots of wildflowers.”

He looked even unhappier. “Alone?”

Giving a tight smile, Gwen nodded. “Yes. I’ve gotten used to it since I’ve come here.”

“You shouldn’t. There are bandits sometimes.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. And what does it matter to you anyway if I’m only your wife for show?” She asked pointedly, upset, and wishing she was with someone familiar so she could feel just a touch of comfort. It wasn’t going to come from Arthur though. And right now she didn’t even want it from him. When she got to the door she heard it.

“Remember what I said. Be careful. I could send Merlin with you.”

She didn’t turn back to him. He could have also suggested himself. But didn’t. And that’s why now he made her feel cold. That’s why his words offered her no comfort. “No. Have a good bath Arthur.”

He heard the door shut behind her, and he grasped at the top of his hair. She looked so scared when she thought it had been Tirmaiur. So terrified.

It shocked his heart to see that.

Shocked it hard.

***

Continued…


	3. Disturbance of Infidelities

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**Part Three:** _Disturbance of Infidelities_

Late afternoon, Gwen stood at river’s shallowest end, ruby red dress highlighted by the last strong patches of sun. Lifting one foot after another, she crossed the stones peeking through the river’s gentle flow. Flowing twistingly through the eastern section of Camelot, the river deposited into the great ocean that protectively bordered a significant portion of the castle, and could be divided into three points of interest.

Couples preferred half a mile past where it met the ocean, the flow fiercest there, but easy to cross using a caringly constructed cobble stone bridge. Loving pairs stopped at bridge’s middle to gaze down upon the furrows of icy blue water. Sharing a kiss, their affections were easily muted by the river’s roar. Next, a lovely picnic upon the grassy golden banks sprinkled with rainbows of flowers.

The river’s middle section was slowed down a bit, but filled with mini towers of rocks for the adventurous to navigate through.

Lastly was this, Gwen’s most favored section where the river flowed much more softly, but the environment that contained it wasn’t all that hospitable. Yet Gwen didn’t mind the dry grasses not cushioning so well, or that to come here she had to weave a careful path through the prickling bushes before sitting down. Tall trees reached out to the skies above too, reminding her of home, the forest here ancient and filled with history. Finally, the wildflowers grew without restraint, unique and lovely for picking.

Sitting down, able to find a patch of grass to relax upon, unbothered by its dryness, Gwen reflected in the peaceful silence, albeit for the trickles of nature’s sound, the water rippling and the branches fluttering in the wind.

Another kingdom had been taken by Bayard; that jarred her heart and was reason why she acted so vulnerably with Arthur hours ago. But the queen confirmed his reassurances, taking a moment’s reprieve from the council meeting to tell her that everything was fine. The queen had splendid news too. A parcel had come earlier by homing pigeon that she gave to Gwen, sent from Tirmaiur.

Now Gwen carefully opened the tanned envelope, taking out some folded parchment paper and a few trinkets that made her titter in delight. It was correspondence from her best friend in Tirmaiur, Freya. She was a talented singer by nature, although shy when not performing. However her sense of adventure was keen. Thus they balanced each other out well, combining social confidence and daring spirit.

The curving words on the parchment displayed strongly Freya’s artistic sense, ramblings about Percival bringing on Gwen’s knowing smile. Freya had been eyeing him since she was a young girl and he was a boy training to be a knight. Together, she and Freya would spy upon knighting practice for fun. Later, Percival, after catching their sneakiness, nicknamed them _‘Tirmaiur’s trailing twosome’_. Although they didn’t entirely agree with the nickname, Freya and Gwen both liked that it inferred they were fantastic sleuths for finding a mystery’s answer.

Well now it seemed Freya and Percival were starting a courtship, which delighted Gwen because she loved them both so much.

Continuing on with the letter, she was further reassured that with the cooperative effort of Camelot’s knights working in tandem with Tirmaiur’s, bandit attacks had gone down, leaving her father with more peace of mind.

Finally, Freya had written another song of lovely poetic words.

Done reading, Gwen grasped the letter to her heart, whispering, “Freya, you letter was just what I needed. Thank you fellow snooper.”

Opening her eyes, she laughed a little and held the trinkets with a mischievous smile. One was a glass for magnifying, the other a cloth for wiping fingerprints, and the third was a gaudy looking necklace for distracting when caught red handed. They were all good humored and perfect mood changers. Holding them in hand, Gwen got a determined look upon her face.

Being married to Arthur was a puzzle. He told her that he wanted their marriage to not mean anything and yet sometimes how he looked at her, how his voice gently whispered _thank you_ every time she stoked the fire, there seemed possibility of more, which teased at her desires. She left Tirmaiur and Lancelot, putting her past life into a pocket that she still did not want to allow the fingers of her heart back into.

Camelot was her second home now and with or without Arthur she was determined to make it a good fit.

Maybe even sleuth for any hidden mysteries.

***

Late afternoon, the tavern at the edge of Camelot was half filled, including his mates and himself. Before his father’s untimely death, Arthur often visited the allied kingdoms with the king and sometimes alone. Whilst doing so, he met Geroff, a prince, Selvin, a knight, and Aldous, son of a duke. They were all friendly sorts, enjoyed adventure, and like him, sometimes neglected their duties. It was the perks of nobility, right?

There was nothing wrong in drinking with his mates, he tried to convince himself. Drifting in and out from the rousing conversation, he focused in on his surroundings. A middle aged woman, bosom heaving within a peasant smock was handing out tankards, while the meaty armed bartender yelled out to anyone who got too rowdy. In front of him, in between the boisterous conversation, the tankards of ale were slapped down by his friends, the dark liquid playing at the edges of its metal keepers and splattering over the counter, something which the woman serving them seemed dryly unhappy about. More for her to clean up.

Arthur found his focus strongly come back to the talk as it took an interesting turn, the topic his wife.

“I’ve heard she’s looking much better now that your mother put her into some of her finest imported frocks.” Selvin threw in.

“Yeah, so how’s that going Arthur?” Geroff lifted up his ale with a twist of his fingers, giving a cheeky grin.

They sometimes teased about Elaine too, but she was part of their inner circle. Guinevere was different, and so Arthur wasn’t sure he liked hearing his friends talk about her as he thought some more on Elaine too. Since the wedding he had only met with her a few times during the daylight hours, engaging in nothing more than kisses.

It wasn’t unheard of for a man to carry on a liaison with another while married, but Arthur got the strong feeling Guinevere would not approve.

“Arthur, out on the hunt?” Aldous ribbed teasingly. Before Arthur could reply, Geroff was commenting.

“I’d say if you weren’t married to her I’d be charming her now. Saw your wife at the edge of town yesterday and Selvin’s right. She may be small, but shapes a dress well.”

“Well I _am_ married to her.” Arthur snapped back reflexively. “So back off some.”

“A jest Arthur, a jest.” Geroff lifted his hands in innocent amusement. Arthur looked away from him, lips pouting. The topic of tension ended there. Changing it to hunting and other sorts of fun they liked to engage in the men were soon laughing and grinning.

Arthur walked out of the tavern in a jovial mood, soon noticed by a swaying knight.

“Prince Arthur. Frequenting the taverns again.”

He turned around, smirking. “And you too, no doubt, Gwaine. Lurching and teetering about.”

The other laughed at that, showing no offense taken as he slapped a hand down messily upon Arthur’s shoulder. “So I was thinking we could continue our little duel that your uncle so untimely interrupted.”

“Why bother? Would just knock you off your boastful arse.”

“You know your wife’s a pretty one. She likes to watch us when you’re not there. I’m thinking she likes to watch me the most.” Gwaine smiled incitingly.

Arthur’s blue eyes narrowed. “First you want a rematch and then you think to go after my wife? Ah, Gwaine, looking desperate there.”

“She smiles at me quite a bit.”

Arthur fought to keep his cool for a moment.

Gwaine and he had been like this from boyhood, going at each other without much rancor. It was getting more tempestuous though. Sometimes during knight training Arthur had to roar to keep him in line, and increasingly the others also. It seemed lately that only when his mother was there everyone was on their best behavior.

His top lip closed over his bottom one with annoyance. Gwaine was just pitching at him because he knew it worked. Well one thing Arthur had learnt well from his father was how to keep his emotions in check when needed, or wanted.

Taking a few deliberate lazy steps forward, he pressed his hand upon Gwaine’s shoulder. “Does she? Smile at you quite a bit, you say? Well not surprised there because Guinevere would smile for a row of cute thumping rabbits, nevertheless a scruffy looking sort like you. My wife likes to be cordial. Which I should know because she and I are married.”

He left it with that. No doubt Gwaine was probably still grinning, but as Arthur strutted confidently away he was feeling a bit more himself than he had in a long while.

***

The eventfulness of the day continued into the evening hours. Because his mother was still in council it was left to Arthur and Guinevere to entertain a visiting duchess from Mercia. While Arthur had to fight to not let out a bothered sigh, he noticed how Guinevere was animated and entirely polite. To him the duchess’s never ending chatter was full of meaningless drivel about things like how the noble ladies were forming into some type of choral group. Yet Guinevere held steady and smiled at all the right times.

After that the two of them got into a long detailed conversation about favorite choral pieces, and Guinevere shared with the duchess the song her best friend had written, the lyrics in a letter.

*

Finally it was over. The duchess excused herself for the night. Merlin and Mary hurried into the dining room to tidy things up and his wife gathered up her letter. Arthur took in the regal dress of dark Pendragon red she was wearing, and how it made her cheeks glow underneath a hairstyle of curled coils. As she folded the parchment back into the envelope, she gave him no reaction, turning away to leave. Arthur caught her arm with his fingers, slowly turning her around.

She looked upon his hand with what seemed disapproval, and so he let it fall back down, gesturing to the letter. “You said that came from your friend, er, Draya?”

She corrected him patiently like one would do with a child.

“Freya.”

“Oh. Mistaken there. Freya, yes.”

Gwen smiled slightly before turning away, clasping the envelope closed.

“So she sings?” Arthur asked, bringing his boot down on one of the chairs so as to get his wife’s attention. Merlin, fussing at the table’s dining ware, gave him a look that Arthur stubbornly did not return, and Mary let out a cough as she picked up the last of the dishes, before both returned to the kitchens.

Gwen was smiling down at the letter. A furrow gathering at his brow, Arthur touched her shoulder to reclaim her attention.

“What is it?” She asked.

Lowering his boot from the chair, Arthur walked a step and placed his hand on his wife’s waist. She wasn’t all that tall so easily he was able to bring his shoulder against her back. He glanced downward, a rapid less than discreet moment, noticing how nicely her curvaceous form filled a dress. “I asked if she sings.”

First he grasped her arm, then her shoulder, and now she could feel the warm pressure of his fingers curved over her waist. And his eyes. It was like they were buzzing with inquiry. But that was preposterous. As of countering that thought, his eyebrows piqued, questioning even more impatiently. Sometimes he indeed resembled a petulant little boy. Gwen’s lips curved a fraction. “Oh yes. She sings.”

“You never told me.”

She took a step away from him, dry laughter eliciting from her mouth. “I just got the letter today Arthur. I didn’t know you’d be so interested. After all our marriage is only for show. Isn’t that what you said my husband?”

Arthur’s bottom lip pouted out as he cleared his throat. “Fine. You’re right.”

He started the walk down the hall and up the stairs. Gwen watched his back with curiosity.

*

Once in their chambers, Arthur complained about the dreadful Duchess of Mercia.

Gwen was standing behind the changing screen, getting out of her clothes while he waited. There was supposed to be a pair of them, one for each, but Merlin had some kind of mishap with his, and the guest rooms were currently all in use with the duchess’s visit. The woman brought an entourage suitable for five kings. His last resort was of course to just change without the screen, but Arthur was in no hurry and Guinevere wasn’t one of those kinds of women who took too long.

Grabbing a golden embroidered pillow off their bed, he pressed it against his chest with a long sigh. “Well at least we got that over with. The Duchess was as dull as a snail.”

Removing her shoes and stockings, Gwen gave disagreement from behind the screen. “She wasn’t that awful. Once I was able to engage her in conversation I thought she was quite nice. It would have been more helpful of course if you had tried talking to her some too.”

Arthur dropped the pillow to the bed. “What? And interrupt? You two were getting along so splendidly.”

Gwen couldn’t help smile at the dryness of that comment, but then she noticed it. _Oh, the hooks_ ; she couldn’t reach them.

Arthur’s brow wrinkled as he heard his wife, grunting and groaning, to which he couldn’t help but make a shady remark. “Well, I guess you don’t require your husband for _er_ …marriage business.”

Peering out the side of the changing screen, Gwen gave as good as him. “Haven’t yet anyway since I’m just a charade.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through that.”

She was frowning almost as if in pain. He was able to catch sight of her arm straining backward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh I already excused Mary and I’m struggling with these clasps and hooks. They reach far too low.”

Arthur gave a teasing look. “Merlin’s handy with clothes. I’ll get him.”

Gwen’s eyes widened and he laughed. “Come on out here. What’s a husband for if he can’t help his wife with her attire?”

Her face scrunched up with doubt. “It reaches very low, I tell you. It’s one of the gowns your mother had sent for me.”

Arthur flashed the thick silver band on his finger. “ _See_. Gives me the right.”

Her look grew even more skeptical so he became commanding. “Guinevere you come out from that screen or I’ll just walk behind it too.”

That shocked her. He rarely asserted himself so strongly. “Don’t order me.”

“Then come… _out_.” He emphasized the last word potently.

Holding to the back of the dark red dress, Gwen finally presented him with her back.

Arthur noticed that about half the hooks were already undone. He just needed to settle on the last half. Bringing his fingers to the clasps, he started to unfasten each one, hearing her let out fierce complaint.

“Arthur, your fingers! Like ice!”

He gave a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

Gwen turned around to face him, gathering his hands within hers, blowing with her mouth.

Warm air brushed over him. Arthur inhaled with surprise. She kept it up until he was no longer so cold. Then she presented her back to him again without a word. He undid another hook, his hand flattening over an exposed part of her back for a moment to test, whispering over her shoulder to be certain, “Better?”

Gwen caught their images in the mirror. He was so close. “Yes.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to turn you as frigid as I am sometimes.” He kept releasing the hooks, revealing more of her sun polished skin. He licked his lips reflexively. She was right. The hooks _did_ reach very low.

Gwen lifted her head, watching him in the mirror, his broad shoulders flexing with the activity of his hands. Just enough to make her look away, gaze at the brightly burning fire instead. “What I was saying about the duchess before, I meant it. You could have joined the interactions more. Like with the citizens. Why don’t you make the rounds? See to the people?”

He had reached the place where her back curved inward to the beginning of her hips. Just two more to go. _And she was asking him political questions._ He shook his head wryly. “I do. You just never see me. Like you didn’t catch me earlier today, training with the knights.

Done.” He added. And the dress suddenly gave way.

Gwen yelped, but Arthur caught at the sleeves, pressing them tighter against her arms. “I got it. Although nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You’re lovely.”

Gwen turned back to him, holding the dress against her breasts. “Really?” She asked wonderingly.

He looked her up and down, before settling on her eyes that reminded him of the dark of night, mysterious, alluring. “Yes.”

Then Arthur coughed, stating, “Let’s go to bed.”

*

It was maybe hours later that she felt a shift of the mattress. She watched as he sat up, pulled on another tunic over the white frail one he slept in. “Are you going somewhere?”

Arthur tensed at the sound of her voice, not looking back. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was until I felt movement.”

He turned around now slowly. This entire day had been like the sum of a week, with so many peculiar things happening and feelings in a wild cacophony of disorder. Now, with her awake, he needed to come to the uneasy decision of either telling her the truth or lying. Neither prospect felt right. Guinevere was not a woman he had wanted to marry, but she had unique beauty, was incredibly kind, and he felt himself caring for her a little more each day.

So why couldn’t this just be outside all that? Why couldn’t the continuance of his life as it was before she came just keep flowing with ease? Why were her eyes so big and questioning him so fully right now, her irises glowing like amber from the firelight?

“I’m just going out for a bit. Get some air. Feel stifled in here sometimes.”

“Because of me?” Gwen asked, the blanket lifted up against her breast.

He stared at her for a moment before briskly shaking his head. “No. Not you. I’ve always felt this way inside the castle. Especially after my father died.”

“How did he die?” She suddenly asked, her fingers coming over his arm.

Warm. _So warm were her fingers._ Arthur pulled back a little still the same, feeling her hand fall away. “Battle. He died honorably.”

Gwen nodded, telling him. “Same as my mother.”

“Huh?”

She filled in. “I know she was a woman, but when Tirmaiur was attacked and I was just a girl at the time, my mother fought right alongside my father. Refused to back down. And so she was…struck.”

“She must have been brave.”

Gwen smiled with remembrance, before relating the subject to him. “Very. Your father, don’t you think even after his demise he would still want you to tend to your knightly duties?”

“What do you mean?”

Gwen sat up some on the bed, letting the blanket fall away, feeling concealed enough in her nightdress, in the darkness, and comfortable enough with him. Although Arthur could tease in ways that would bring on a blush, he had never touched her indecently, refraining from such action, like he did with his duty. Maybe not all positive attributes.

“I’ve been out there more than a few times. I like to watch the men train. I did too when I lived in Tirmaiur. And Arthur, yes you were there today, but because of an emergency. Other than that, you’re rarely there. It’s mostly Leon taking over as head knight. But it’s _your_ duty. By not rising to it you’re shaming your father, don’t you think?”

_This._ This was what she did that irked and made him feel uncomfortable. She was his wife, forced into it as much as he was. Why did any of this bother her? Why did she keep nudging him irritably on it making his look turn cold now? “I don’t see how that’s any of your business Guinevere.”

It was such a selfish answer. She rose up even more, her breasts heaving with disgruntlement against her nightgown as she strongly dissented. “Of course it is! I am princess of this land. You will be king one day. My brother was prince too, but he chose to leave Tirmaiur. And I am so ashamed of him.”

“So you’re ashamed of me too?”

Gwen shook her head. “You’ve stayed. You haven’t left. But somewhere it seems your heart has strayed from being honorable, noble, like your father no doubt taught you. As was right. A prince _should_ do his duty. Make the rounds. See to his people. Not just…go wherever you go off to.”

He got up from the bed with a sorely bothered huff, telling her, “You know nothing of my father. Only the little bits I’ve told you and that barely describes the man. And I thought I made it plain. You commented about it earlier. This marriage is for show. You’re not going to make me feel guilty for-

He stopped himself. He was saying more than he wanted to.

Gwen’s faced piqued with question. “For what?”

No. She wanted to make him feel bad and it wasn’t going to work. This was his individual pleasure, nothing to do with her. “Well I’m going off now. Don’t wait up.”

Gwen heard the door shut tight. She rolled over on the bed, fisting the mattress with frustration. Arthur Pendragon was worse than a riddling dragon. So infuriating at times.

She sighed, composing herself as she sat up, noticing how the fire had lost some of its flame and she was feeling cold. Maybe her husband’s chill attacks were wearing off on her.

Gwen groaned, making her way to the fire to stoke it up once more before settling back down on the bed, curling up on her end, alone.

***

Nights later, she wanted the truth. And she wanted him to finally state it.

Gwen considered herself a wise enough woman. His behavior poked at infidelity. Arthur wasn’t a man of many words, but now he barely spoke to her at all. He’d just pout and get sheepish looks. It was two evenings later, she confronted him from her side of the bed as once again she felt the shift of the mattress’s weight.

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you? The Lady Elaine?”

He froze at that question.

The silence was ugly answer enough. She laughed bitterly, the bristling sound coming out before she could contain it. “Oh my God. You share this bed with me every night and yet you go the same to be with your mistress? You care that little for me Arthur? For your title?” Tears leaked out of her eyes without permission. She roughly wiped them away before he could turn and see.

“Didn’t want you to know.”

Gwen huddled on the other side of the bed, body’s movement separate from him. When she had come to the conclusion she hadn’t expected his departure to affect her so much. But it did. “You’d rather just make a fool out of me in private.”

He let out a long sigh at that, shaking his head. “I don’t want that at all. I told you from the start. I only agreed to this to make my mother happy. Because she forced me to it.”

 

Gwen turned back to him now, not caring if he saw the tears. “Oh. How lovely to be that _hideous_ to you.”

He groaned. “No. I didn’t mean that. What I-

_“JUST GO.”_ She told him sharply now. “Go be with your…lady…who’s been tittering every time I see her in town. Letting me know that she hasn’t lost her hold on you. I cared for someone deeply too in Tirmaiur, but I left him and I have been faithful to this marriage. This farce. _GO_.”

He caught her arm, intending to make his plea, but this battle was not to be won eloquently. He was foolish to think it could. “Look. It is not about you, alright? I have told you-

His cold skin chilling her, she shivered away.

Arthur sighed, bringing his rejected hand down. “I’m not going to feel shame for this. Men do it all the time. You had to know that coming into this marriage. I told you-

Gazing fixedly at the fire’s flames, she interrupted harshly. “That you are in this only because you were forced to it. Yes I know that. Don’t think I came into it with any happiness either. I do this for my father and for Tirmaiur, love, obligation, honorability, which you Arthur Pendragon understand nothing of, because every motivation you have, every decision you make is for your own selfish needs.”

“What do you expect from me?” He asked now with exasperation.

Finally she turned to him, hoping all her tears had been fully wiped away. “For you to give me respect.” Her hand pushed against her chest. “I am your wife. You should have at least told me the truth of where you’ve been going.”

There was wetness on her cheeks. They made him flinch. “I thought it would be worse.”

“You feel no shame?”

How was it that she became this? His conscience? He didn’t like that. “Men in these days and age do this all the time Guinevere. They take a mistress. They-

She grasped his hand firmly, getting him to fix upon her eyes. “Did your father? Because you see mine never did. I don’t care what other men do. I care what my father did and now what my husband does. I have tried to see good in you Arthur. But you are nothing but a selfish cowardly man. You do not act like a prince. And you do not act like a husband. You act like you are so cold and so afraid of just living. You shut me out. You drink yourself to a stupor. And you lie to your mother every day.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Now tell me that your father would be proud of that.”

His pout formed at his lips, his forehead narrowing to hard lines. His voice shook. “You didn’t know my father.”

It was the truthfulness of who he really was, hidden behind layers of stubbornness and pain most definitely. But she had enough of it.

Letting go of his hand she turned her back on him again, not wanting to look on as he went to his mistress. Not for the personal reason so much. She had yet to truly understand Arthur, if ever. No, it was just that as a princess herself she was raised with so many good values. The Queen Ygraine had them too. Arthur was nothing more than a disappointment. She knew there was something in him that was stronger than this. She saw fragments of it day to day, but for now he refused to allow that out. And so she would not pardon him for being so much a bastard.

Like a statue of resolve she remained turned away, her chin held high, quietly, but strongly condemning his sordidness. Her anger spit out of her mouth just now, but not once did she yell or scream, and its result was powerful effect. He almost felt inclined to stay, enflamed now with guilt, but it had already been planned, and so he left to be with his mistress.

***

Their marriage, so novel and vulnerable, was deteriorating before it could even be reinforced.

A couple of nights later after feeling Arthur’s retreat from their bed again, Gwen looked upon the furniture like it was the filthiest thing ever.

Wrapping her arms around herself she decided a bath was in order. With it being so late she had already sent Mary away for the night. She’d have to just take care of it herself.

Gwen searched, finding the large tub at the southern side of their chambers, hidden by a curtain. With a grunt she tried pulling it out further into the room, but made of solid wood, it was heavy and so she stopped, instead giving it a few heaving pushes until she had it out enough.

The soap and washcloth ready, she now needed water. There wasn’t enough in the pitcher and bowl that they used for washing face, but there were pumps right outside the kitchens. She’d bring back some in a bucket and heat the water with the fire that was still glowing nicely in the hearth.

She removed her nightwear, a spare one in their wardrobe. Bared of clothing, she wrapped her robe around herself, tying it at her waist. It was doubtful anyone would be up. She was only making a short visit to the kitchens anyway. Opening the door quietly, she made her way down the hall.

***

Shirtless, Arthur moved to the crude window, taking in Camelot’s high rising castle in the far distance. He was in one of the tavern’s back rooms, discreetly in place for those who had the gold to buy its use. As prince there was no problem with that. Arthur had multitudes of gold. What was problematic was finding a tavern far enough away that would not bring any gossip back to Camelot. He even had to disguise himself with dark robes and leather wear.

Now it was as he told Guinevere, customary for a man to have a mistress, but his marriage was new, Camelot was part of an increasingly shaky alliance, and dealing with his mother’s unhappiness was another burden he didn’t need. Thus it was best to do everything in secret.

Pale slender fingers wrapped around his stomach, making him sigh as Elaine pressed her lips against his shoulder. “What made you leave the bed?”

Arthur’s mouth tensed, her touch usually bringing him comfort, just dampening his mood more now. When he wasn’t with Elaine he wanted to escape. But now that he was with her, he felt weighted by all that was happening in Camelot. He even recently started having bothersome dreams about his late father.

She moved in front, her lips pursed unhappily. “You are so far off. Not even answering my question.”

Elaine was right; he barely heard it.

As his troubling silence continued, Elaine rigidly fixed her hands on the waist of her under-slip. “It’s her. It’s the princess. That’s why you’re acting like this. That ugly little shrub who dresses like a peasant.”

Arthur turned to Elaine sharply, her anger now taking away from her physical beauty. It pinched her face. “She’s not ugly.”

Elaine lifted her hands with dismissal. “Oh yes, because of your mother giving her so many fine gowns. Before that she looked nothing more than a pauper.”

“Enough. You’re speaking of my wife.”

She yelled, getting him to gesture for her to be quiet. “Oh and what am I then?”

Arthur let out a tense breath as she continued indignantly.

“You told me Arthur that this would change nothing, but already it seems she is altering you. This woman who you only just married because your mother decreed it. Not because you desired it, at least that’s what you told me. So now that’s changing, is that it Arthur? You have feelings for her?”

It was a long rant, that she didn’t even give him a chance to answer to before she turned her back. Arthur was getting a lot of that. The cold shoulder. He reached out, touching Elaine’s arm, but as his fingers were chilled she moved away with annoyance. “You are like an ice shed sometimes.”

His eyes widened. Moving away he reached for his cloak and draped it over his shivery skin. Elaine let out a sigh that told him she regretted her words, but still her face was pinched with vexation. “There is no reason for us to be here anymore tonight. You barely pay me heed. There are other more… _attentive men_.”

Now Arthur’s eyes narrowed. As she started to pass by him with the innuendo of those words, he grasped onto her arm, letting go only when her eyes showed complaint at how his skin was still mostly chilled. “What do you mean by that?”

Elaine shrugged, telling him defiantly, “You are not the only roguishly handsome man, Arthur Pendragon. There are others who would not dismiss a woman like me so easily.” She meant to keep moving past, but then his lips pressed hard against hers demandingly.

Elaine smiled, whispering into his ear. “Better. Should I make you jealous all the time?”

That made him frown. “You were toying with me.” It wasn’t a question.

She laughed softly. “A woman must keep her man interested.” They kissed more. Fell to the bed.

Partook in some vigorous activity.

And when it was done…when he was slumbering, Elaine slid across the bed. Found his discarded trousers. And reached into his pocket…

***

Her bath finished, Gwen felt cleaner. Now she wanted to make one more return trip to the kitchens. Her mouth was parched; a glass of cider would help. She once more wrapped her robe around her now damp body. As she departed the room, her freshly washed hair sprinkled droplets onto the collar.

She moved out into the hallway, down the steps and then down another hall. As she started to make her way through the second hall, a door slid open in front of her. From it exited a man. Gwen stopped, pressing her hand against her mouth to dim the sound of her breathing. Then taking a furtive look around, she hid behind a tall statue of a Camelot knight.

The man’s long concentrated stride was familiar, Agravaine. Unlike her, he did not seem to be just getting a late night refreshment. He was wearing his cloak and all. As he turned the corner something fell to the floor.

She waited for him to walk further, before she left her hiding place. Carefully tiptoeing, Gwen stopped where the object fell. Reaching down, she picked it up into wet and slippery fingers. Not nimble enough, the object departed her hands, dropping to the stone floor once more, its only bit of muting coming from the woven carpet.

Unfortunately that wasn’t enough. Hearing the sound this time, Agravaine stopped in his tracks.

Gwen gasped as she saw that he was turning, coming back down the hallway. Scrambling to get up and holding the object behind her back, she faced him warily.

His dark brows peaked, like a twin pair of crow’s beaks. “Princess Guinevere?”

She smiled cautiously. “Oh, Lord Agravaine. You startled me.”

“Did I?” He asked, with apologetic gesture. “Well then I am very sorry. Although just a bit questioning about what are you doing out here in the middle of the night? It is quite late Princess.”

Her top lip bit over her bottom one. She could tell him the same, but she didn’t think he’d like that, and her wet hands behind her back were still fumbling to not drop the unidentified object that came out of his cloak. “Yes. Lord Agravaine. It is, indeed. You see I found myself feeling thirsty suddenly. I just wanted to get myself a drink.”

Those beakish brows peaked even more, the stance between them wide, putting Gwen on edge as Agravaine scrutinized her for a long while before answering.

“Well that is quite unfortunate. I would think my sister taught my nephew better how to treat a lady, especially his wife. Letting you get it yourself? Not chivalrous at all I would say.”

Gwen bit her lip harder, squeezing the object in her hand so fiercely she nearly lost grasp of it again. Feeling it edge at her fingers, she curled them over it tightly. “Well, actually, he’s sleeping. Arthur had a very tasking day, attending sparring practice with his knights.”

“I was under the impression Leon had control this afternoon. Your husband had _other_ business.”

Gwen’s face scrunched up with frustration. Tension throbbed through her body as she tried to not appear nervous, struggling to hold onto the hidden object.

Taking a step forward, his height superior to hers, Agravaine’s dark eyes narrowed, as he asked, “Are you alright? You seem tense. But then of course liars usually do. Why don’t you show me what it is you’re hiding _LADY_ Guinevere.”

He advanced further, giving her no choice but to back up. Her breath pushed against her lips, her heart beating fast enough to make her breast rise against her robe’s sheltering material. She knew it was only a few steps more, the wall. And either she’d meet it with enough force to drop the object she was holding. Or she’d be pressed against Agravaine’s threatening form.

She felt her footing suddenly lost, but before she could fall backward, strong arms grasped her waist to keep her steadily standing. And a voice from directly behind spoke with carefully contained anger.

“Accusations Uncle, against my wife? I don’t think my mother would like that very much. I certainly don’t heed by it.”

_Arthur_. As much as he kept upsetting and disappointing her of late, now Gwen breathed a sigh of relief, back pushing into his chest.

Finally the object simply fell out of her wet hands, but as it did, Arthur’s hands swiftly vacated her waist and caught it with shocking accuracy. He kept it in his hold, between his wife’s back and his lower half so it wouldn’t be seen.

“She’s holding something in her hands. Tell her to show you.”

It had helped when she pushed up against him and he grasped her waist. Having her so close to him, his actions were easily hidden. Smoothly Arthur pocketed the object and turned his head to his wife with quiet question. “Guinevere?”

It stunned her. How quick he was to react. Slowly she brought out her empty hands.

Making an ugly noise under his breath, Arthur told his uncle plainly. “As you can see Uncle, my wife is not hiding a thing, but she must be cold. Any man with dignity would see that her hair is wet and politely excuse himself, but instead you treat her wretchedly.”

Gwen wasn’t even given a chance to respond, in protest or any other way. Holding her waist with his hand, Arthur pressed his lips against his wife’s. His mood enflamed, his mouth was quite warm. The kiss was short, discreet, but still it did something to her breath for a handful of seconds. Her heart beat a little faster and so for a short moment Gwen placed her hand on Arthur’s chest, getting her balance back. She was mildly shocked to feel him murmur against her ear.

“Go on. The hallways carry a draft. I’ll get your drink. Cider?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll just be a moment.” He squeezed her waist for a second before gently letting her go. Gwen moved toward the elder man, stating with forced politeness. “Lord Agravaine. Good night.”

His lips fell into that almost smile. “Good night Princess. My apologies for mistakenly thinking you would take something of mine.”

She looked up. His last words were hissed out. He didn’t believe her. Still Gwen kept her chin up, passed by, pressing the front of her robe more tightly against her breasts. She had just caught Agravaine taking an indecent glance downward.

Arthur waited, a long while until he knew his wife would be out of earshot and then turned his unbridled anger on his uncle. “You had no call to treat her that way. Accosting her in the halls? Guinevere is my wife, a princess of the finest order, and you will speak to and treat her with respect. Do I make myself clear, Uncle?”

Agravaine was put off by the order for about a few seconds, before heavily scrutinizing his nephew’s wear. “Two liars. You were not in that room at all. Easy to tell by the boots and coat. Ah, Nephew, feeling a chill?”

He touched Arthur’s shoulder in a _‘comforting’_ manner, getting the other to furiously move away from him before he smiled with insinuation too. “Oh and what about you Uncle? Do you always walk around the castle with your cloak on?”

Agravaine laughed at that. Arthur watched him fixedly. He knew he couldn’t stand the man before, but now his disgust had just grown twofold. Finding him with Guinevere in just her robe, seeing her actually trembling with discomfort, was enough to infuriate him.

“Best you hold your tongue Nephew. Your mother has been weary a bit of late. Have you not noticed?”

This was why Arthur despised the man so much. Years ago when his mother brought Agravaine to Camelot he was just suspicious of him. Now it was a thick welling of disgust. And his mother had no idea any of it was going on because he kept it from her for personal reasons.

Agravaine went on in Arthur’s silence, expressing his concern for his sister. “You don’t want to cause her trouble Arthur, now do you? I can tell by your face you know it well. Even though she tries to act like it’s not much, you’ve seen it too. She’s dealt with a lot of stress, a lot of it from you. And now she has to think of the kingdom. That’s why she had you get married, right? But if she knew your wife was a liar and that you too were lying to me…what would she think? What would your father think?

Too much. Arthur gave siege, pushing his uncle against the wall, who reacted with a touch of alarm before whispering, “We don’t want to wake anyone, do we Nephew? You’ll have to explain why you’re dressed as you are.”

Livid, Arthur barked. “And so will you.”

He stalked away, but then a third on his way to the kitchen, he turned around, hissing out. “Uncle.”

Agravaine turned, eyebrows raised.

Arthur snarled it out from his lips. “Stay away from my wife.”

Agravaine just smiled before responding, “Well, if you were a better husband that wouldn’t be an issue, would it Nephew?

***

Gwen kept tensely watching the door, giving a furtive glance to the one at the rear too. If he didn’t come back soon-

Suddenly the door flew open. Gwen gasped in surprise, feeling something wet fall over her robe.

After lightly splashing her, it landed with a heavy clang, even with its thickness, the ironware cup cracking into pieces.

Looking down at with dismay, Arthur gritted out, “I’ll get you another.” He noticed that she was wiping at new wetness on her robe. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a towel also.”

She frowned at him and closed the door. “No. It’s fine. I’m not as thirsty anyway and it barely touched me.”

Arthur pushed against the wall. Feeling that she hadn’t shut the door tight, he locked it more firmly into place and ranted about Agravaine. “Bastard. My mother never should have brought him here.”

“He is your kin.” Gwen reminded, searching for a rag, finding the ones she had used to wash and dry with over by the tub. With them in hand she knelt down upon the floor to clean the mess.

“Don’t. You’ll cut yourself. Let Merlin clean it in the morning.”

She let out an irritated sound through her teeth.

“What was that for?”

She fisted her hands at her waist, momentarily looking up. “Well that’s your answer for everything isn’t it Arthur? Let Merlin do it. Let Leon do it.”

“I don’t get Leon to clean my messes.”

She laughed dryly. “No. You just have him take over your knights. Actually they’re _HIS_ knights.”

“I’m the Prince, Guinevere, not Leon.”

“Then _ACT_ like it.”

She hissed and continued cleaning. Arthur watched for a few moments as she picked up the pieces into the cloth until there were no more on the floor. His mouth twitching, he handed it out to her. “Here.”

She had almost forgotten it. Gwen looked up at the object in his hands.

“So Agravaine was right? You took something of his?” He moved his hand back some, not allowing her to take it yet.

Her lips pursed tightly as Arthur kept his gaze on her fixedly. “Was my uncle right? You stole from him?”

She swallowed the truth, not yet ready to tell him, and not caring for his demanding tone. “I did not steal from him.”

“Then this is not his?”

“Please.”

She gestured for him to give it to her which he balked at. “You didn’t answer me Guinevere!”

Now he was practically yelling and so feeling a bit guilty, but also angry, she countered. “I don’t have to answer you. It’s not like you planned on answering me the first time you went to be with your mistress until I realized what was going on. If you think I am a liar as your uncle called me, then fine, keep it.”

His expression was slightly chagrined and touched by ire at the same time, but letting out a sigh, he handed her the object. Gwen pocketed it inside her robe. When she bent her head back down to clean some more, she was stopped suddenly by his hand tightening on her wrist, and his eyes focused on hers strongly. “Guinevere, I can’t stand the man. But don’t try to be sneaky with him. I don’t trust him, alright, and I don’t want him anywhere around you. So watch yourself.”

She breathed hard with agitation, never comfortable lying, but also furiously frustrated at how he kept twisting things. One minute he was off to see his mistress. The next he was showing concern for her. Well she had enough.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so careful if you weren’t sneaking around. He kept asking questions that made me feel uncomfortable.” Angrily dismissing his hand on her wrist she got up to her feet, stating robustly, “You sneak out in the middle of the night so you can be fulfilled, isn’t that right my husband? Must receive a man’s pleasures.”

“Guinevere!”

She wasn’t done though. “I only state veracity. It shouldn’t offend you if it’s the truth, should it? Not unless you’re doing something that is improper. And it is not only that. You get yourself drunk at the tavern when you should be commanding your knights. Plus you order your servant around. All while you shirk every one of your duties. It is shameful! And I will not stand by any longer and hold my tongue while you act like you are entitled to every benefit of living while those around you must suffer for your selfishness. While they work, you just play.”

His teeth gritted against his bottom lip. “That’s not true. This marriage wasn’t my-

“Enough.” She cut off his lamely overused argument. “Two of us did not want this marriage, trust in that. In fact now, I like it even less, for you act indecently and too righteously.”

She threw the mess of the broken cup into the waste bin and left the rag to dry against the counter. Then heading to the bed, she grasped some of the blankets and walked away.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked with a furrowed brow.

“I decided something. Reason why I wanted to take a bath so suddenly in the middle of the night.”

She looked back at it with disgust. “That bed is full of filth after what you are up to each evening, infidelity and adultery. So I won’t be with you in it. Not after you go to her. I won’t be in it with you and her…scent upon you. With you drunk like an old sinful man! I’d rather sleep upon the floor!”

Taking all the blankets she had gathered around herself she curled up then away from the bed, grimacing. She forgot it. He watched with surprise as she jumped up and got her pillow.

It was clear to Arthur that after their argument just now she was very upset and also her encounter with Agravaine had been unpleasant, but _this_ , what was she thinking?

“You can’t sleep on the floor Guinevere. It’s freezing!”

She lifted her head to his warning. “Oh don’t worry my dear husband. I’m not prone to cold fits like you!” She couldn’t help muttering under her breath, at first lonely when this marriage started, then sad, and now just so indignantly incensed. It came out from her lips without her mind censoring. “Pig.”

“What was that?” He asked her with shock.

“I called you a _PIG_.” She told him without fear. “Only a _PIG_ goes to the woman he was with before, whilst married. Only a _PIG_ treats his wife like you treat me. Only a _PIG_ would get back in the bed of one woman after being with another. And only a _PIG_ neglects his duties every day. _PIG PIG PIG_.”

“Guinevere!”

An angry glare fixed on his face. Well _she_ was infuriated.

“You look so shocked that I can get angry and yet you should not be. You test people’s limits Arthur and mine has found its end. Did you _THINK_ I was so feeble a woman, so fragile, so needing of a man’s touch that I could stay in the same bed with you after you…do…what…you…do? Stoke the fire yourself this night! Maybe it will burn some sense into you!”

He watched as she curled upon the floor, far from the bed, hearing her breath hot and bothered. Even though he tried to fight it, shame crept into his skin and heart, lashing out there uncomfortably.

*

Hours later, she woke to hear the hearth lightly crackling and see his shadowed form sleeping upon the bed. In the fire’s glow it seemed he had rustled around the covers quite a bit. Well if he was having trouble sleeping it was just what he deserved for his illicit behavior.

No sooner had that thought entered her mind she started feeling bits of shame for her own doings.

Making sure that he was still asleep, his arm stretched out above his head, and a soft snore escaping his lips, she felt confident enough to sit up and reach inside her robe that she had left on the chair. Within the pocket was what she picked up earlier. Gwen studied it now with a crease to her brow.

It was a vial, identical to the one she saw Ygraine holding. She was just about positive. Now of course most vials looked alike, but the contents could have a different color and the lids were sometimes different shaped or hued. Her sleuthing skills told her that this one matched the one Arthur’s mother had.

It was not only that though. What was most disturbing to Gwen was that she swore when she saw Agravaine making his way down the hall, he had been leaving the outer rooms of Ygraine’s vast chambers.

_Why?_

Already Arthur had proved how little he trusted Agravaine. And she shared in that emotion.

But no one should become the guilty culprit until all the facts were known. And no need to worry her husband if not needed. It didn’t matter, any anger she might have towards him. She wasn’t viciously unfeeling.

Thus, she would have to find out what the vial contained before any further actions. Arthur surprisingly gave it back to her without too much argument. It was another one of his rare confusing displays of concern for her welfare when he warned her. So if the vial really was taken from his mother, she’d make sure her husband knew.

Gwen gave a heavy sigh, putting it back in her robe’s pocket. Tomorrow.

Enough already this night. She needed sleep.

***

Continued...

***

Thanks for reading!


	4. Sapid Heat of Life Kisses Goodbye Charade

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**Part Four:** _Sapid Heat of Life Kisses Goodbye Charade_

***

The next morning when Gwen woke the bed was empty. However, there was a note upon the chair nearby. She stretched her arms upwards, a tad sore after her sleep upon the floor.

Her muscles then less taut, she unrolled the note and read it.

_Guinevere,_

_I left early for a ride. I should be back by afternoon. If you require anything, Merlin stayed behind._

_I wish you would have slept upon the bed. The floor really does have too much of a chill for the body. I don’t want you to be ill._

_Heed my words about Agravaine. He’s not to be trusted._

_Your Husband,_

_Arthur_

Gwen laid the note back upon the chair, letting out a heavy sigh. Of course there was no _‘loving husband’_ , but then even _‘your husband’_ sounded false. There was nothing _loving_ about their relationship, except for maybe his gentle issues of ‘thank you’ when she stoked the fire for him. He received no such favor last night, as his behavior left him quite undeserving.

Sighing, Gwen stood. Her husband up first was rare, but then maybe he was meeting with his mistress. Well she had plenty to do with her day.

Gwen called for Mary so she could start it.

***

It was remarkably surprising to Arthur, how he was able to find the place without much issue. After all, it had been quite some time since his last visit. Not even his mother’s insistent requests had worked.

The death five years in the past, it would seem ample enough for most people to have dealt with it and moved on. Perhaps it was how it all happened though that left Arthur with a vivid ugly picture that never fully retreated from his mind.

That day, four men, knights of Camelot, carried his father to the physician’s table as cautiously as they could. His wounds were grave, one upon the head, the deepest one near his heart. They left him splattered with blood that Arthur still felt sick from when he thought too deeply of.

Survival lasted no more than a few moments, even with the physician and those attending to him working feverishly to keep his father breathing. It was too late. It was too grim. There was only enough time for a few last words, ones of sage advice that Arthur wished contained more.

_”Be brave Arthur. Do what is right. I love y-_

And that was it. His father often found little ease with words of affection. That was usually left to Arthur’s mother, but when death knocked, Uther Pendragon attempted it at least, telling his son that he loved him.

His heart just stopped beating before the sentence could be completed.

It hurt then, the feel of that shaking, dying hand, and it hurt now, to have a grave to visit, a slab, no matter how fancy it may be, instead of the man.

_“Be brave…do what is right…”_

For all these years, Arthur had buried the words, giving into indulgence to not have to face his own horrid battle someday, to not have the memory of his father’s bleeding, to not face what destiny expected and required of him.

It wasn’t working anymore though. His conscience kept nagging him since marrying her. For some reason, his wife’s questions about his father, her interest, and her disapproval of his ways made his father’s memory so vital again.

He should have known his mother would be wise in her pickings. Guinevere was not the kind of woman you could just ignore or act cavalierly about making angry or upset. She had the upbringings of finest royalty and she was keen of mind. Even when silent, she had a way of putting him in his place. Although that bothered him quite a bit, it was also something he couldn’t help but respect.

Guinevere never knew his father, but she was wise enough to surmise that his father hadn’t had liaisons on the side while married to his mother. Arthur never saw sign of it and never heard complaint of it from his mother. They were in love and committed. The balance between them of strength, intellect, kindness, and courage, built Camelot into a kingdom of considerable power and prestige.

Much of that was under threat now though. Arthur noticed its wear upon his mother privately in the morning when she didn’t realize she was being watched as she stepped out of the council chambers for a short moment of rest. He felt his first true concern about it when Guinevere feared for Tirmaiur. Usually a picture of calm, her upset struck him.

The latest kingdom on the list was Chenary. Bayard was likely at its weakened border now. Kingdom after kingdom, Bayard was stomping upon them, they like bugs underneath an Ogre’s massive foot. Once powerful, once noteworthy, they succumbed to his forces as if they were nothing more than tiny ants.

Now some of them had not ever been the most stalwart, but those most recently taken were kingdoms whose demise seemed far premature.

Plus there was the fact of Bayard himself. Although a man of muscle and raging mouth, he wasn’t the most sage of rulers. Thus, it was baffling, how he was achieving all this.

Arthur let out an extensive groan, kneeling at his father’s tombstone. “Why do I care so much?”

He asked, a silly part of him hoping for an answer. No vocal one came, but his mind showed its reluctant astuteness. “Because you used to. Because Mother does. Because it is my duty to…”

His father told him to be brave, to do what was right. How he was acting now though, Uther Pendragon would view as laziness and cowardice.

“The same way Guinevere sees it.” Arthur muttered, recalling his wife’s words the previous night, that he was closing himself off, that he was afraid to live. That he was selfish, shameful.

Although he had never coveted marriage, it could be frightfully worse. She could be an unappealing and uncouth woman. She was nothing of this. Guinevere instead had distinct beauty and already was familiar with kingdom. She was a woman of integrity, the kind his father married.

“Now where’s my integrity?” Arthur questioned with reluctant honesty. So much of him loathed it, being shown his conscience in all its nakedness again, but it was there now in front of his blue eyes, and what he saw he didn’t like much. He had no intention of giving up all his perks he indulged in before Guinevere.

However, there was one activity he started believing fully just last night, when she refused to sleep upon the bed with him, he needed for more than one soul’s sake, to end.

“Right Father? Time I do what is right.”

He lifted back up to his feet, fingers grazing over the stone for a moment with lingering, before he walked away.

It was time to stop cowering away from it, time to honor his father’s memory and meet his own fate.

***

Gwen knew what she was doing was wrong and that it could land her into a heap of trouble, but it was for the better good. That was her defense, not that sleuthing also kept her mind off her less than amorous husband.

Well, perhaps he was amorous, but not with her. And really that was fine.

Gwen did not consider herself some romantic fool. She entered this marriage for purpose of kingdom, for love for her father. It had nothing to do with imagining lasting happiness.

However, she did expect a husband who, if not faithful, at least would show veracity. Arthur instead was a man of secrets and cowardice. He regarded his duty in ways that she thought were insulting to kingdom.

It was awful because she knew that there was more to him; it annoyed her that it mattered.

 _Ah_ , perhaps she should get off her high horse. After all, she was intruding upon a man’s private chambers.

Dressed now in a frock of off white with golden accent, another present from the queen, Gwen perused the furniture. The dressing table near the bed had a variety of objects. She stepped closer to inspect them in better detail.

There didn’t seem to be any more vials like the one held in her pocket, just other daily necessities like a wide eyed comb and cloths for washing face and hands. It was all quite immaculate and orderly, unlike how Arthur kept his things. They would be forever disorganized if Merlin didn’t help him.

Strangely enough though there was a blue tunic in the middle of a table, just lying there as if it might be covering something. At least that’s what her sleuthing eyes told her.

Gwen scanned the room’s entrance, seeing no one there, and made her way to the small round table with the tunic upon it. She started to lift it, glancing upon a spark of golden shine that-

_“I know who tends to Lord Agravaine’s room, and you’re not him, so what do you think you’re doing in here?”_

Turning around quickly, jarred by the voice, she nearly lost her footing. It took a rapid grasp of the table for her to keep her balance as she simultaneously with her other hand dropped the tunic back to cover the barely glimpsed golden object.

“Oh. Lady Guinevere. Sorry. I didn’t know it was-

Pressing her hand against her breast, getting her equilibrium back, Gwen shook her head with disapproval at Arthur’s tall, lanky, dark haired servant, dressed in worn, but bright clothing. “Merlin…I thought we were friends.”

With awkwardness he bit down upon his lip. “We are, but well…what _ARE_ you doing?”

Gwen nodded, making her way over quickly. “You’re right. This looks terrible. Really, I can explain. Just probably best we get out of here before-

_“It had to be stolen from my chambers.”_

_“Agravaine…”_

Merlin and Gwen exchanged anxious looks. It was the voices of Agravaine and his sister, and they were nearing quickly.

There was a locked closet at the back of the room. Merlin scanned for the key, but with no time, made a decision to do things the faster way.

Merlin’s eyes flashed with fire-gold before they returned to their natural blue, and the door popped open. Gwen gasped in astonishment. “Merlin, you have-

He grabbed her arm anxiously. “Gwen, come on.”

Smartly shushing up, she nodded her head. They stepped into the closet to hide, keeping it open just a crack for the purpose of breathing. They made it just in time; Ygraine and Agravaine entered the room a few seconds after. Her look was tired. His was angry.

“Maybe you just dropped it somewhere. I’ll have the physician make you up a new one. Things of my own have been disappearing sometimes too.”

“See! There is a thief in this castle!”

Ygraine shook her head. “I’m as bad as Arthur when it comes to organization of small things. You and I are siblings. Must run in the family.”

Agravaine gestured around to his immaculate room. “Look at this…does it appear as if I misplace things? No. There is a thief in this castle.”

Ygraine let out a heavy sigh. She had no time for this really with all the kingdom drama. Word had been sent just yesterday that Bayard broke through Chenary’s borders. With how messy Bayard was about things, she imagined there was much bloodshed, death and injury. The gravest concern was who was helping him because there was no way he could conquer so rapidly five kingdoms on his own.

It got worse.

Isgard had been giving Chenary aid, but when Bayard was just a few miles from the border they fled to protect their own vulnerable kingdom. They also opened their mouths, starting up a nasty rumor, blaming Camelot for Bayard’s success, implying they had someone within that was helping him. It was of course completely false, but creating unneeded strife.

Ygraine was working feverishly into the late night hours, with discussion and negotiation, to get all the kingdoms to hold within the alliance, to cease the spread of rumors that would only benefit Bayard.

She reiterated tiredly, as sleep was something she hadn’t been getting much of. “There is no thief.”

“I’m telling you, there is.”

Ygraine fisted her hands at her deep blue dress. “Alright Agravaine, and who are you accusing of thievery, one of the servants? I am telling you that there is no way that-

“Her. I’m accusing her.”

“Who?”

“The girl you brought here to be with your son.”

Within the closet Gwen let out a tiny shudder. Merlin stared at her for a second before gesturing for her to hold it in. They could still be found.

Ygraine simply laughed, regarding her brother as if he had gone insane. “Oh Agravaine, you can’t be serious! Guinevere? She would not steal from you or anyone else!” Her small pale hands fisted at her waist. “Guinevere is part of this family now, not some stranger.”

Agravaine was insistent though, a sneer of disdain forming at his lip. “She was wandering in the middle of the night in the halls just this past evening, acting quite suspicious-

Ygraine cut through rapidly. “And what were you doing in the halls big brother? Spying on a young woman?”

“I was doing no such thing Ygraine! You’re twisting my words!”

“Then don’t make blind accusations.” Ygraine told him firmly, giving that shocking display of assertiveness when those who dared to go against her thought she was nothing more than like her skin’s paleness. Weak. Without quarrel.

Oh she had plenty of tenacity when needed. It was something her late husband learned about her with intrigue when they first met. “I will make sure the physician has a new vial for you within a few hours, but you will not offend Arthur’s wife again.”

“How much do you even know of this girl?” Agravaine was not backing down.

Neither was Ygraine. “I know enough of her parents, friends to Uther and I for years. Her father still as he lives on. I was able to spend quite a bit of time with Guinevere too when visiting Tirmaiur earlier this year. I know more than enough. For you to accuse her of being a common thief is disgraceful and will not be tolerated. I don’t want to hear another word of it Agravaine. Understood?”

He bit his tongue, but with a look of fury.

Sighing, Ygraine reached out to touch her elder brother’s arm. “I probably don’t say it enough. I am so thankful for you coming to live here. I know Arthur does not make it easy, but I am grateful for your presence and your counsel when I ask for it. Sometimes you and I do not see eye to eye Agravaine, but after the loss of Uther I needed more family around me. I needed to have my brother here.”

His expression actually softened as he returned the favor, pressing his hand against hers, his words not all that supportive nevertheless. “I think you sometimes make mistakes with how you run this kingdom, as I have told you before, and you have not listened to me those times. I think Arthur should be better disciplined. I think you are too trusting.”

Ygraine let out an exasperated sigh. She knew they’d never fully agree, but still it was just another irritation she didn’t need. Arthur hated having Agravaine in Camelot. With how Agravaine viewed him quite unfavorably at times too, there was little question why.

Ygraine had a different belief though than her son. Agravaine could be of great benefit to Camelot in the future. She hoped someday when most essential, Arthur would see that, and use it to his and Camelot’s advantage.

She teased her brother with a bit of veracity now. “Well you can be entirely greedy. You know of what I speak.”

“Ygraine-

“I have to go back to the council. This problem is still not stumped enough. If you will see to the kingdom matters…”

“Of course.” He gave a slight bow.

Ygraine smiled at him wryly. “Alright. Thank you.”

She left the room. After she did Agravaine realized she had done little to solve his thieving problem. Just like Ygraine, getting his mind to something else. Well she should know he was as canny as a watchful raven, and that he wasn’t letting Arthur’s new little bride off the hook just yet. She may be an enticing little thing, quite curvaceous, but she also seemed a troublemaker, one he would squash if need be.

For now…he had some fellows to meet with. Important matters.

…

Both Merlin and Gwen let out sighs of relief as finally Agravaine left the room too. Then stepping out, they glanced at each other curiously.

Merlin asked, “Did he really just accuse you of stealing?”

Gwen’s eyebrows furrowed. “He did. And yet…”

“Gwen?” Merlin questioned.

She brought it out of her pocket. “It’s his vial.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “What?”

She continued on in a rush. “Merlin, I saw him with it, departing the queen’s chambers. I swear I did, last night.”

“Have you told Arthur about this?”

Gwen shook her head with a grimace. “No. He knows I had a vial, but he doesn’t know it’s Agravaine’s.” Gwen went on rapidly. “Oh Merlin, Arthur is too busy with his own things to care. His awful indulgences. But there’s more. He hates Agravaine with a passion. If I tell him about this and I’m wrong—

Merlin smiled uneasily. “Gwen, what do you think is going on here?”

She moved in closer to Merlin, wanting to make sure no one else heard. “Ygraine has been ill. Do you think it’s possible…”

To that Merlin gasped. “Are you accusing Agravaine of poisoning his own sister?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. He seems so underhanded. Arthur doesn’t trust him. Ygraine even seems to have some qualms about him.”

“Yeah, but at least she also has it under hand. Their conversation there, Ygraine didn’t sound all that weak.”

Gwen smiled with relief to that fact. “Agreed, but still…Agravaine was so keen to get back this vial. Why? If it was some simple sleeping draught, okay, but what if it’s more?”

“And how do you plan to find that out?” Merlin asked. “Going to the physician?”

There was no way she could do that. Gwen knew. “Of course not. The physician would then just accuse me of stealing. After all, if he made up the vial, he knows its purpose and he knows who it’s for. I need someone who would understand the chemistry of it, but it can’t be the physician. I need…”

She stared at him now, recalling it. “Merlin, you have magic?”

He bounced from one foot to another awkwardly. “Been wondering when you would remember that.”

“Arthur doesn’t know?”

He shook his head firmly. “No. And he can’t.”

“Why? There is no ban here against it. Most see it as trivial. Magic has no real power, not like it used to.”

It was an assumption Merlin didn’t like, but had grown accustomed to hearing. “Well, yeah, if you don’t have magic you might think that. It’s actually more Gwen. But anyway, Arthur not knowing about me is not so sinister as it sounds. The queen simply wanted someone who would keep her son guessing, and yet impress him the same. He’s rejected every servant for years now. I needed a job. She offered. She’s known my father since childhood. He passed on two years ago, but he taught me all he knew and well…some of it…”

“Some of it…what?” Gwen asked.

“Doesn’t matter. What does is now with me as Arthur’s servant, I can secretly get things done faster than ever, and keep him baffled by it. Plus keep him in order. Arthur hasn’t tried to fire me once. I’m too good at my job.”

Gwen started to laugh now as it was all true. Recalling some of Arthur’s wild bantering about Merlin, the whole thing was very amusing. Ygraine had a good sense of humor, while also looking at the practical. Arthur needed a servant who he could not take the mickey out of, who would do his job awfully well, and now he had one.

So if Merlin was good at that…was it also possible…

“What about you? Merlin, do you understand chemistry? I’ve read volumes on magic and it says that most mages in the past knew it quite well. Do you?”

The vial was in her hand. She was holding it out to him. Letting out a sigh, Merlin grasped onto Gwen’s arm. “Come on.”

“What-where?” She asked with surprise.

His blue eyes viewed her sharply. “Somewhere that we can do it in private. Somewhere that you can get your answers.”

“Oh.” A little uncertain what that meant, but trusting of him, and of her own ability to get out of a tight situation, Gwen nodded, and let him lead her out.

***

After descending the mountain and coming to the borderline between Camelot and Ascetir, Arthur spotted one of his friends that he had spent time at the tavern with, Aldous, the Duke of Ascetir’s son. He looked quite disgruntled.

“Aldous!” Arthur called out to him. A flaxen haired head looked up. Seeing his friend, Aldous stopped his horse.

“Arthur.”

The prince rode in closer, grimacing. “You look like a bear on the prowl. What’s nagging you?”

Aldous shook his head. “You heard about Chenary, right?”

Arthur gave a nod of graveness. “My mother’s been in council for days now, almost nonstop.”

“My father too, meeting in Camelot for half of it. Look Arthur, you know I don’t care about this stuff much. Neither do you. But my father is saying that Isgard is starting up some trouble because they fear Bayard will be after them next. There are mutterings that Camelot is aiding him.”

“Shut up.” Arthur stated rapidly.

“Look, _I’m_ not saying it!” Aldous hotly defended. “But there is one thing I’ve been wondering. What do you know about her?”

“Who?” Arthur asked.

“You know, that new wife of yours. What do you truly know about her?”

Arthur’s eyes widened with shock before he laughed off the question. “Oh come on Aldous! My mother brought her to Camelot. Do you think she would bring in someone who would cause trouble? This has been going on for a while, long before Guinevere set foot in Camelot.”

Aldous sighed. “I know. But Arthur, it is really looking like an inside job.”

To that Arthur smirked tightly. “And how do we know that’s not coming from Ascetir?”

“Don’t go there.” Aldous warned darkly.

Arthur came back with just as much flame. “Then don’t suggest it’s Camelot.”

The other man faced him hard. “I didn’t suggest it. I told you. It was Isgard who started it all up.”

“Then stop listening to Isgard. If they want Camelot’s protection they best not spread any more rumors.”

Aldous laughed. “Are you threatening them? You can barely hold your drink Arthur.”

The prince sneered, angered with his friend’s accusations about the kingdom he had been born to. “Same with you, swaying back and forth each time we leave the tavern.”

He took a breath, backing off some. “Look, we’ve been friends for years Aldous. Looking to ruin that now?”

“Of course not Arthur. This has everyone edgy though. How is Bayard doing this, don’t you wonder?”

Arthur gave a ragged nod of his head, his hand rustling through his hair messily. “Of course I do, now that he’s going to get Chenary too. Five kingdoms in less than a year’s time.”

“It’s absurd.”

“Right.”

“He can’t be doing it alone. It’s inconceivable.”

Arthur fisted his hand at the waist of his brown trousers, a leather black vest over it along with a dark brown tunic. “I do think he’s getting help, but it’s not from Camelot.”

“Okay then. But I still have to wonder about your wife.” Arthur’s face tightened so Aldous went on with a frenzy of haste. “You come with us to the tavern all the time and when not there you’re with Elaine. You probably hardly see her. Do you honestly know her that well, this woman from Tirmaiur?”

Arthur hated being challenged, especially by his friends, and when it concerned personal matters like who he was married to. Without thinking much, he just pushed, forcing Aldous against a nearby tree’s trunk.

“Arthur-

He clenched Aldous’s tunic within his fingers. “I already said that my wife has nothing to do with this. So that will be it.”

It was in all literality dangerous for Guinevere to be accused of such heinous crimes. It could send madmen after her. Arthur didn’t want his wife to have lies spread about her, especially ones that could threaten her life.

Aldous stared at him quietly for a moment, their faces in such near proximity, before asking, “You’re getting to feel for her, aren’t you?”

It was enough to lessen Arthur’s fire. He dropped his hands from Aldous’s tunic. “Don’t say anything more about Guinevere, about any of this.”

“Is that a warning?”

Arthur smirked grimly. “It’s a promise.”

That was enough revelation for Aldous. “You _do_ have feelings for her, so what about Elaine?”

This conversation just tangled from one direction into another, and Arthur was growing irritated by it. “Elaine is my business.”

“She’s our friend.”

Arthur let out a sigh, before giving a shrug. “Alright. I’m thinking to end things with Elaine.”

“So you’re committed to this marriage?”

Arthur just gave another shrug.

“Elaine’s not going to be happy.”

“I know. But it’s better it end sooner than later.”

“Yeah. Probably for the best. Like us growing up.”

Arthur smiled at that. Was this what all this was? Both of them were finally rising to their fate and destiny?

Arthur thought of the rumor…thought of Agravaine. That was preposterous though, right? He could barely tolerate the man, but that didn’t make him a traitor. Agravaine wasn’t canny enough to be behind something as well orchestrated as all this.

Aldous was wrong. No one from Camelot would ever do something so treacherous. It had to be another of the kingdoms.

The two young men eyed each other warily for a moment. Bayard’s conquerings were achieving more than he even first intended.

_Ally against ally._

_Friend against friend._

_The possible future?_

Perhaps. But for the moment, both let their aggression and doubts go.

“Good luck with Elaine.”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”

Each rode off in opposite directions, to their respective kingdoms.

…

From beyond, a mysterious shrouded figure watched, giving a satisfactory smile.

Everything was working quite well now.

Finally it would be done.

It would be had.

***

“Merlin…where are we going?” Gwen asked with exacerbation. Already they had passed far beyond the castle, subsequently entering the darkest part of the wood. It had to be upon horseback, the journey not a short one, weaving through trees, bushes, and barely marked paths of thick banks of dirt and forest debris. Now finally a slight opening appeared that led to a queerly sunken cave.

“Merlin?”

He stopped his horse and jumped off, coming to where she still sat. “It’s here Gwen. Come on, I’ll help you down.”

He reached up for her waist, feeling her allow the assist as she came down from her horse. “A cave?”

“Yeah.” He took her hand and led her inside. It was rustic on the outer surface, with moss growing around its edges. Within, it wasn’t exactly a palace, but it definitely felt grander than it should.

“Illusion?” Gwen asked with wide eyes.

Merlin shrugged. “No. Well not really. It just appears one way when you’re out of it. It’s when you’re within you see all the potential. Come on, it’s a few rooms down.”

 _What is?_ Gwen thought as they passed from the entrance to the kitchen. The walls were rock and moss, the furniture rustic, and yet it had a distinctiveness of the marvelous too. It had little charming flairs to the edges that resembled pictures of furniture in the mage books she studied. “You are full of secrets, aren’t you Merlin?”

He didn’t respond, just finished leading her to the appropriate room. Inside were multitudes of shelves climbing to the strangely, suddenly, tall ceiling. Upon each were vials, jars, and other types of containers of colored liquids.

“Oh my…” Gwen spun around slowly, taking all the oddness in. Coming to a stop she noticed a beautiful statue at the far end of the room, sitting upon a work table. “Is that…”

He smiled curiously. “Yes.”

“But I thought they were all extinct.” She traced it with her fingers, feeling the intricate moldings, seeing the jeweled eyes.

“It’s just a statue Gwen.”

“Right.” She let out, whispering. “Are you a maker of potions then, or what?”

“Not really.” He took the vial now as she gave it to him. “Whatever I learned, I learned from my father. He was one of the great mages. He knew Arthur’s mother.”

Merlin gestured forward and so Gwen sat down upon a chair now, noticing its labyrinthine wood design. “They were friends?”

“Yes. All four of them really. My mother. His mother. All of that, but it was years ago. Arthur never really knew much about the friendship. Neither did I. My parents went to distant lands for a while and then when I was older, after my mother passed on, my father came back here. That was after Arthur and I both were much older in age. Just a few years ago actually.”

He opened the vial and deposited the contents into a small jar, noticing how Gwen flinched.

“It’s alright. I won’t tamper with it in any way.”

She nodded. “I trust you.”

Merlin smiled at that and continued his story while setting his mind to understand the contents of the vial, using a tool here and there of magic and chemistry. “Anyway, my father didn’t associate much with other people after my mother’s death. He was a quiet man to begin with, Balinor his name. And so we came here to this remote cave. The queen would come to visit.”

Gwen stated curiously as she watched Merlin examining the vial’s contents with a trained eye. “I’m guessing she didn’t bring Arthur.”

Merlin shook his head, keeping his eyes on the vial’s contents. “No, she didn’t. I’m not sure why. It was just recently, right before you two were married, that she asked me to live within the castle, hide my magic. Although I wasn’t always around when my father was still alive, I’m certain she never brought Arthur here.”

“Why weren’t you always around?” Gwen asked as Merlin’s words had mysterious air to them.

“Oh…just…other things. Other places I needed to be.”

She got ready to ask more, but he told her before she could. “Well that’s it. I know what’s in the vial now.”

“You do?” Gwen asked excitedly, jumping off the chair.

“Yeah.” He smiled fractionally. “But I don’t think it’s going to be that illuminating.”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, before blurting it out. “It’s to help him perform better.”

She wrinkled her nose with confusion. “On stage? He’s an actor?”

“Gwen.” Merlin shook his head, his eyes focusing hard on her with meaning. “Perform…privately.”

“Oh my.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “In the bedroom?”

“Yeah..or wherever he…well anyway, it’s not for a woman. It’s for a man.”

“Oh…wow.” Gwen let out a long sigh. “No wonder he was so keen to get it back. And that must have been why he was out of his room in the middle of the night. But…I saw him coming from the queen’s chambers.”

Merlin shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you were mistaken or that was about something else. Ygraine doesn’t even think anyone’s stealing from her. It’s Agravaine who wanted to accuse you because he probably wanted to stir up trouble and…”

Gwen finished for him. “And was angry at me for taking his performance enhancement. Oh dear. Now I have to get it back to him without him finding out.”

Merlin shook his head. “Leave that to me. If Agravaine finds you that won’t boast well. He would get angry and if Arthur discovered you both like that, he wouldn’t be happy either.”

Gwen shrugged off Merlin’s concern. “I doubt Arthur would care much.”

She started to walk away, but Merlin got hold of her arm, his eyes firm in belief. “Then you don’t know him well enough Gwen.”

She frowned as he went on.

“Arthur was really upset this morning about what happened with you and Agravaine last night.”

“He told you?”

“Yes, sort of. He didn’t mention the vial, just your inopportune meeting in the hall. Arthur has a habit of ranting when something upsets him. He kept talking about it more than he probably wanted to. And so I replied at all the right places and got him to talk more. Look I know that he’s still with that…woman…and I’ve told him that it’s wrong.”

Gwen shook her head with indifference. “It doesn’t matter Merlin. I don’t care about Arthur.”

“You don’t?” He asked her pointedly as he let go of her arm now.

“No.” She answered quickly. “well…I do care about him. But if he wants to be a coward and a lecherous fool then…let him. Be that.”

Even though she tried to hide it her anger was solid. Oh Gwen was definitely a woman who did not rant and rave like so many others could, but she too wasn’t made of iron. Her heart could be hurt.

“I was in love once.” Merlin told her now candidly, a bit rashly, but he knew she’d listen with all the kindness she had.

Gwen smiled, touching his hand. “You were?”

“Yeah.” He smiled too, recalling better times. “It was when I was away from here for long periods. She was beautiful, special and…we shared something together that not really anyone else would understand. Just… maybe a few.”

“Did she have magic too?”

Merlin nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sure she had a name…” Gwen hinted.

Merlin smiled. “She did.”

“And?”

“Freya.”

“Oh!” Gwen let out excitedly. “My best friend is Freya. She has brown hair.”

Merlin smiled. “Not the same. One I loved had red. But it’s a special coincidence, them having the same name.”

“Well of course she’s not the same, as the one I know lives in Tirmaiur.” Gwen sighed. “But yes it is…special. So what happened to her?”

Merlin looked away from the chemistry contents of the room, to the statue, to the hallway, and then to the floor before answering. “She died.”

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry.” Gwen touched his hand, and Merlin grasped hers, surprising Gwen as he stated fervently. “Love like that Gwen, it comes maybe once. I know I sound old, but I’ve felt it and I doubt I will again. If you and Arthur…if there is a chance that you can grow to love each other, like I think is possible, although now it’s hidden by denial, pride and fear, then keep being strong with him. But be there too. Don’t let him get away with the cheating aspect. Don’t let him go if you really do care.”

He thought about a shrouded figure, and another, of flames, of wings, and of…love. It ended faster than it should have. Now he needed a new purpose. Hmmm…maybe Merlin was finding it.

Gwen stared at him, feeling Merlin’s insistence rocking at her heart. She shook her head, admitting, “I told Arthur this. There was someone in Tirmaiur, Merlin.”

“Oh.”

She went on with a sigh. “He loved me and I never really…fully loved him back. Not the same anyway. I just never had that…special feeling with him that you must have had with Freya. I’m not even sure what it is…love of that nature. Here in Camelot, I’m frustrated and lonely sometimes. I do want to make something of this marriage, but I can’t be the only participant. If Arthur won’t even try, why should I? Why should I care to remain faithful to a man who shows none for me? He has no qualms about going to another in the middle of the night. It’s…”

She let it out angrily, hurtfully. “Humiliating Merlin.”

Gwen looked away from him, having given exposure to the truth of her feelings. It went beyond a relationship with Arthur, if that was to be a possibility. It went to her dignity.

Merlin grasped at her hand, seeing it, and getting it. “Gwen, he does have qualms. He knows his actions hurt and he doesn’t want them to. He’s troubled like you now. I don’t think Arthur thought you were going to be that special. But now that he sees…well…”

Gwen shook her head. “I shouldn’t even care.”

Merlin countered. “But you do. Because you have great heart. And believe it or not he does too. No matter how much he wants to deny it, he also cares.”

“Merlin-

Gwen started to say, but then heard an odd noise. A loud one. She turned down the hallway. “Is someone else here?”

Merlin’s face blanched. He should have been more careful. “No…well…”

“Merlin?”

The noise came again.

“Uh…you know…it’s a cave. Makes…weird noises.” He grasped her hand. “We should go.”

Another. Gwen pulled away and fisted her hands at her waist. “Merlin, please. I do have enough intellect to know that is no sound of some cave. What is it? Because it’s getting louder.”

As it was, filling the room.

Merlin sighed, taking her hand again. “Alright, come on. The queen knows. You might as well also. But you can’t tell Arthur. Not yet anyway.”

“Tell him what?” Gwen asked.

Merlin said nothing, just kept leading her down one hallway after another until Gwen started feeling dizzy. How could there be this many rooms? They were altering too, growing more rustic by nature except for so many vibrant jewels, as Merlin now came to a heavy wooden door.

“Don’t panic.”

“What? Why?”

She asked, but then the reason for the noise was right in front of her. The door was open and…

“Oh…my…how…what…” she asked in astonishment, holding on tightly to Merlin’s hand, her eyes staring ahead at what was in front of her.

“Remember. You can’t tell Arthur…yet.”

***

Elaine whispered with teasing...

“In the daytime hours. Getting more adventurous my handsome Prince.”

Arthur shied away her advances, grasping onto her wrist as he told her pointedly, “We need to talk.” She nodded, letting him into the Camelot home she shared with her parents.

…

When he was done telling her the decision he had come to, Elaine was far from pleased.

“So that’s it? Over? Just like that?”

“Elaine, I told you-

She cut him off, thrusting her finger in front of his face. “You told me that nothing would change. That you had no feelings for her!”

“I was wrong, wrong to keep coming to you whilst married.”

“Oh, really?” Elaine asked with thick sarcasm. “I don’t recall you thinking it was so wrong to be with me the nights previous. Your grunts of satisfaction indicated everything was quite right.”

He should have known this wouldn’t be without disarray. She was terribly upset now and he couldn’t blame her. He also couldn’t go back. Maybe if he tried to reason with her, he could make her see this was for the best.

“Elaine…” He tried explaining. “I realized nothing good can come from this. It’s not right, not for you, not for me, not for Guinevere.”

She laughed shrilly. “And when did you come to this great epiphany Arthur? Can you tell me that? It certainly wasn’t when I had you in bed quite satiated. What did she do to make you change your mind?”

Finding the proper answer was a struggle for Arthur, because there was none. No matter what he said it would come off sounding appallingly uncouth. Nevertheless, it had to be this way. Isgard was causing trouble for Camelot, threatening the shaky alliance by insinuating that it had someone on the inside helping Bayard. Apart from that was the personal factor. His mother needed no more stress. He had others to think of too.

Elaine and Guinevere, both, did not deserve to be treated so inexcusably. His visit to his father’s grave helped him see much of what was going on in a new light. Guinevere’s spoken displeasure of his actions and interactions helped him look at things more objectively too. The truth was, for years now he had been hiding behind indulgence.

Now he wasn’t ready to stop visiting the tavern completely, his belief firm that he should be able to have fun from time to time, but with Camelot in a bit of shaky state, rumor-wise, no reason to increase the fodder for the masses. His father left behind a destiny that he needed to honor in greater ways. The bond of marriage meant he could not be free with liaison.

“Don’t blame this on Guinevere, Elaine. This is my decision, to do better, to be nobler.” Partly those words felt foreign, and on the other side they also felt righter than ever. Tavern visits, hunting trips, they wouldn’t all fade. A man had to be balanced. Nevertheless, his wife was expected to be faithful. She was a good honorable woman, if a bit mouthy at times. Now he would match her in that goodness.

Elaine, conversely, didn’t consider Arthur’s reasoning so righteous. Brought up with such privileged status, her family a richer one of Camelot, she saw no reason for those of nobility to have great amounts of duty. They should be allowed more time of pleasure and sloth.

“Oh yes, by leading over your fine Camelot knights, that’s how you will be nobler.” She stated mockingly. “You are their only valuable leader. It can’t be Leon or-

Arthur interrupted harshly now. This had always been a bone of contention between them, but he let it go because for so long he avoided the obligation and expectation of leading the knights. It went beyond laziness though in truth. After seeing his father covered in blood, and watching him die, pieces of Arthur no longer wanted that kind of role that would require the utmost of bravery, valor that could lead to further bloodshed. He didn’t want to look upon those red stains again, and recall the pain of losing his father.

Enough was enough though. He was no longer a child. Camelot depended upon him.

“Yes, knight training, Elaine. You’ve never supported me in that. Guinevere has a quite different view upon it. But you…you’ve always questioned it, haven’t you?”

They were the wrongs words, if veracity. Elaine was unnerved and so it took seconds for her palm to connect with his cheek, the smack loud and echoing.

Arthur lowered his head, the sharp pain stinging his skin before it faded and he faced her again. “I probably deserved that.”

“Oh you deserved that and more!” She yelled, before turning things counter clockwise. From anger to toying favor, she raised her hand to his chest, fingering at his tunic and revealed skin. “You had it so good. A woman of rich splendor like me to spend your days and…nights with. But you blew it Arthur Pendragon. Now you and your oh so noble wife can live a life of tedium. You lusting for what you can’t have anymore. Because I know you will grow tired of her soon enough. She does not understand your rebelliousness against rule, nor your indulgences in life. She does not understand how to fill you with satisfaction like I and my fine constitution do.”

She was fingering him further, intimately, her voice a hiss of seduction. Arthur resisted it all, pulling away from her wandering hands and shaking his head. “You’re wrong. You do not understand her…nor maybe even me.”

Elaine glared at him, pointing to the door firmly. “Get out.”

He didn’t want it to end this way, so furious. “Elaine…” He tried one last time to explain. Elaine wasn’t having it though. She pointed more jarringly, stating in a louder voice. “GET out.”

Arthur let out a long sigh. This was where it would have to end. Time to depart. He nodded a tad, before stepping out.

Elaine waited for a few moments after he was gone to slam the door shut. Screaming, she fisted her hands at the wood.

…

Then when her tantrum was done, she collected herself and walked to her room at the back of the house, facing Camelot’s eastern end. Going inside the room, she walked to her bed, sat down at its head and reached for something hidden within the middle drawer of her dressing table.

It was a box, and inside the box was a ring of perfectly duplicated keys.

Multitudes of keys.

She fingered them with a cool smile, whispering with laces of vengeance in her tone.

“Should I?”

They jingled against her delicate fingers.

“Or shouldn’t I?”

***

That night when Arthur departed their chambers again, like he had the previous nights, Gwen groaned from her position upon the floor. Then she pressed herself to her pillow. Merlin was wrong. It didn’t really matter if Arthur cared for her in any way or not. He still was an uncouth pig who would not give up his affair. It was so frustrating because she could see something in him greater, had viewed so many glimpses of nobility, and yet he continued on like this.

A coward. A despicable man. Well no more. If he was entitled to-

“Off the floor. Now.”

Gwen turned around, staring at the suddenly opened door, and the returned Arthur. His words were indulgently insulting. She hissed beyond her shock of him returning so fast. “Pig. Type that orders a woman.”

Arthur had enough though. His argument with Elaine had been ugly, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. This was the right decision, but it certainly wasn’t the easiest one. Especially not with his wife calling him names yet again.

“Guinevere, you do what I say and stop calling me that. I didn’t go, alright? I didn’t want to. Now come…”

His voice inexplicably grew softer at the end, the concern a nag he couldn’t control. Veracity of it was he hated watching Guinevere curling up on the floor, her small body settled against the cool stone. There was no reason for her to be like that, greater reason for her to be apart from it.

“The floor is cold. You will catch your death like that. Come on before you force me to-

“To what?” She turned back to him now, asking strongly, “What, Arthur?”

His lips pouted with tension. “Force me to pick you up and throw you down upon our bed myself.”

“Oh I’d like to see you try.” She challenged.

That was it.

Oh she and her bravado, her force of words, her provocation of his manhood. It made him covet a display of strength. He wanted no more of her quarrel, for her instead to understand that he was the one leading things here. She drove him too far.

Arthur rounded the room before she could get a word in, swept Gwen up into his arms. With his strength and her lusciously curved, but small stature she fit perfectly into his hold. Angered at her insolence, he _did_ drop her down upon the bed with her pillow too. Gwen squealed, but then he climbed atop, and pushed his palms on either side of her head as he looked down pointedly into her dark eyes. “Don’t dare me.”

“Someone needs to.”

“Oh.” He lifted his head. She never gave up, persistent to the hilt, a fighter, a woman of stalwart purpose. “You’re the mouthiest princess I’ve ever known.”

His hands still on either side of her head, Gwen felt her vulnerability suddenly eke out, his eyes so close to hers, his mouth there to stare at. Oh, it annoyed her, but she couldn’t hold back on having some feeling for him, some attachment that she never felt with another honestly. She was always peaceful in her emotion, but Arthur had a way of sometimes threatening her calm. It came to her throat now sickeningly, how much it bothered her.

_So maybe not tonight…but what about the next…what about…_

“Will you go to her tomorrow night?”

Her voice was practically shaking, her eyes big and questioning. They tendered deep inside him, making him shake his head resolutely.

“No. It’s over. That’s why I came back so soon. I told her earlier. I was just checking on something else now. All of it is over. Now go to sleep.”

Letting out an extensive sigh, at her slow nod, he lifted his hands away from his wife and lay down upon the other side of the bed, apart from her. However, the chill of night caught him soon, making him give a shiver.

Gwen caught it and lifted up off the bed. She poked at the fire and got it to flame.

When she lay down again however, she realized that the covers she had been using were still down upon the floor. Before she could make up her mind to get them, she felt Arthur’s hands bringing his parts of the blankets over her and then his lips actually pressing against her cheek a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

Gwen smiled slightly, head resting on her pillow as she whispered, “I’m sorry for calling you a Pig.”

He smiled too. “Apology appreciated even if-

She stopped him there though, pressing her hand against his arm. “Arthur.”

“Yes?” He looked back at her questioningly.

It was noble he had ended the affair, but disheartening to her that it had to take so long to bring it to completion. She did not want to strip away her dignity by just accepting that he was done with it now. The time he continued it was bothersome and his secret keeping was even worse. She couldn’t let everything be at ease just because he finally came to good sense.

“I appreciate you ending your affair. But you still tried to keep it from me. You acted cowardly.”

Alright, that affected him like how her mouthiness could irk . Of course it was the truth, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. One moment she was soft and sweet, by stoking the fire for him, the next she was quietly passionate, yet firm. It teased, it tickled, and it brought on a low flame of anger.

“Did I?” He gritted out.

“Yes.” She went on strongly. “You should have at least been forthcoming.”

“What does that matter now?” He asked with a snap to his lips. “I ended it.”

Gwen faced him questioningly. “ _Why?_ Why did you end it? So suddenly. Don’t you see Arthur, I have to wonder why this marriage matters to you now when it didn’t at first. I have to-

He put up his hand, silencing her. “Okay, enough. Too much is going on in Camelot now. Bayard has taken five kingdoms already and Isgard is stirring up a pot of trouble because they are reckless, and fearful.”

“What do you mean?” She asked with a frown. “What has Isgard done?”

Hesitating with it for a moment, Arthur warned quietly, “This is between you and me, as the less people who know, the better. It goes no further, you understand?”

“Yes. What?”

“Isgard has started up a rumor that Camelot has someone within helping Bayard.”

“What?” Gwen asked with astonishment, lifting her blankets up further over her breast. “Who?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. No names were given. But-

She cut through urgently. “With the recent conquest of Chenary, do you think that means Bayard could be getting closer to attacking Tirmaiur?”

Reading the anxiety in her widened eyes, Arthur shushed her gently, his hand lifting to her shoulder for comfort. “No. I told you already Tirmaiur is guarded well, has Camelot’s protection. Do not worry for your father, alright?”

Gwen nodded faintly, feeling his fingers give tender squeeze.

“Guinevere, it will be alright.”

She hoped he was correct in that. His words and touch were reassuring, but still it was not so easy being days’ ride away from her father when danger lurked.

She changed the subject, needing to talk about something else. There was no wise counsel in extents of worry.

“So this…you ending your affair, it’s really about political reason?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well you said my father wouldn’t approve and truth is Guinevere you are right. Far as I know he was always faithful to my mother. Now their marriage was by arrangement too, as is the custom so often for nobility. But it didn’t take them long to enjoy their union. They balanced each other out well.”

She asked with a weird sense of desire. “So maybe it’s not just political? This marriage _we_ have?”

Arthur wondered about her voice, the soft attraction in it that lured him. “Perhaps.”

His fingers came out, getting her to still, as they delicately coiled into her curls of hair. They lifted and rolled as he smiled slowly. “After all…you’re not at all painful to look upon.”

“Neither are you.” She whispered.

He chuckled quietly, and drew his hand away, but then she was grasping it.

“Guinevere?” He asked, seeing hard purpose in her eyes. “What is it?”

She hesitated for a moment, before getting it out. “You were right. The vial last night, it was Agravaine’s. He dropped it and I picked it up.”

Arthur groaned, squeezing Guinevere’s hand tightly before he realized the force of his grip, and let go. “So you did lie to me.”

“I had to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it seemed he was coming from your mother’s chambers.”

“My mother’s chambers?” Arthur questioned.

“Yes.” Gwen answered, noticing Arthur’s tight frown and fisting of his hands. He needed to know all of it. “When I first came to Camelot I noticed your mother with a vial very much like the one Agravaine had. Then I saw him leave what appeared to be your mother’s chambers last night. So when he dropped it, I took the vial. “

Arthur mused on all that for a few moments, coming to a troubling conclusion. “Because you thought Agravaine had tampered with it?”

Gwen nodded. “I thought it was possible.”

Arthur’s expression was tangled with disquiet. “Why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I didn’t want to cause you unnecessary torment…in case I was wrong.”

Leaning forward across the bed, now quite agitated, Arthur asked Guinevere plaintively, “Were you…wrong? It wasn’t my mother’s?”

Guinevere’s smile was slow, but filled with veracity and tender care as she reached out for his hand and held it for a moment. “It wasn’t Arthur. It was Agravaine’s.”

He let out a relieved sigh at that. “Good.”

“Is your mother ill?” Gwen asked cautiously.

Arthur shook his head. “Not seriously. I’ve known about the vial my mother takes for some time now as it was a few years ago the physician prescribed it. She has some health issues that affect her vigor and momentum at times. Higher levels of stress make it worse. And so all this now, with Bayard, Isgard, and everything, it’s not good for her.”

He hung his head in a rare display of candor’s shame. “It’s the other reason why, after your badgering…good for me I have to painfully admit…combined with the political situation, I realized I need to tend to my duty more. Earlier this morning, before leaving for my ride, I saw her. She didn’t know I did; she looked quite tired. It’s time for me to step up more, cause her no more stress.”

“Agreed.”

Arthur grunted at Gwen’s firm response. She didn’t have to say it so readily. And no matter what she was thinking about that vial she shouldn’t have gone near Agravaine. “Fine. I’ve been wrong. But so were you last night. No matter what reason, no matter if your intentions were good Guinevere, what were you thinking? Agravaine is not to be trusted even if he didn’t take my mother’s vial. If I hadn’t interfered what do you-

She frowned. “You think he’s violent?”

Arthur shook his head fast. “I don’t know. He hasn’t shown anything like that since arriving here almost five years ago. He’s been more cowardly and snidely than anything. But I still don’t trust him and I don’t like how he looked upon you in your nightdress.”

“Right…he did leer a bit. But Arthur, your mother trusts him. Merlin and I heard it today.”

“Care to explain?” Arthur asked tightly.

So Gwen did. Everything. Except the specifics of where Merlin took her and his magical secret of course.

…

When she was done, Arthur looked upon her with bewilderment. “You certainly had a busy day. Remind me to belt Merlin for joining you on your crazy venture. Hiding in Agravaine’s room, Guinevere? What if you were caught?”

He couldn’t help remember Aldous’s words. Guinevere was already quite popular in Camelot, but just one little thing and she could be seen as someone to be suspicious of. He didn’t want that, especially not now with all the political turmoil.

“Arthur?” Gwen asked. He looked so deep in thought.

Arthur shook his head. “It’s nothing. So…what happened?”

She didn’t tell him about Agravaine’s accusations. It would just anger him further and they didn’t matter since Ygraine didn’t believe Agravaine. “Well I wasn’t caught. I was with Merlin anyway. But don’t you see what I’m saying? Your mother sees something in Agravaine that made her bring him here. The vial was nothing more than…” She cleared her throat a bit awkwardly. “Male…enhancement of…”

He smirked, giving a tight laugh. “Yeah, I gathered that part the first time you told me. Which still is even more reason for you to stay away from him. Where’s the vial?”

Gwen gestured across the room. “In my pocket. I’ll return it in the morning.”

“No you will not.” Arthur told Gwen firmly now, reaching out and grasping her shoulders. “I’ll do it. Stay away from his chambers.”

“Arthur.” She responded heatedly, but there was no backing down in him.

“Guinevere, you’re not going to quarrel against me on this.”

Her eyes scrutinized with interest. She saw glimpses of it before, but this night especially his firmness was stalwart and it irked some, but she also kind of liked it. “I’m not?”

He knew she was toying with him, but his soberness was strong. “You’re not.”

Gwen nodded slightly, and asked. “The tavern?”

“What about it?” He asked stubbornly.

“Have you given up that too?”

Firmly Arthur shook his head. “Why should I? Look, I’m not going to frequent it as much. But I’m still going there.”

She nodded, turning away before she stated, “Okay then, I’ll just keep up to my doings also. After all, this marriage is mostly political of nature.”

That made him grumble as he moved forward to grasp her shoulder from behind, giving whisper, “No more going away with Merlin.”

“Why? He’s my friend.”

From his lips he let out a whoosh of air. She was exasperating him again. “Because that’s not what a princess should be doing.”

“And should a prince be going to the tavern…while other men take notice of said princess?”

“What?” He asked hotly. His hands grasped enough at her shoulder to get her on her back as she turned too, making the task easy enough for him. She didn’t mind so much looking up into his blue eyes, especially when they flamed with intent. It made her feel a little less guilty for toying with him. Oh it was true. The dashing Sir Geralt was definitely taking notice of her, but she found it more amusing than intriguing. He was a funny sort who was quite handsome. Still, she found someone else quite more handsome.

“What are you talking about?”

“Sir Geralt.”

“What did he do?”

His hands were tight on her shoulders, so Guinevere patted them with appeasement. “He didn’t do anything Arthur. He’s just a very charming man.

“Too charming. “Keep away from him.”

She grimaced. “Oh you want me to keep away from everyone and yet you still-

“I ended the affair Guinevere.”

“Yes, but-

“Guinevere.” He stated with steely counter.

It made her sigh and reach up, touching his cheek with her small fingers. “He does not interest me, other than his service to Camelot. His charming causes no harm for I am not a woman who plays such games. If you will be faithful to this marriage, then I will continue to be so also.”

“Well, with that done…” His smile was one of satisfaction. She had more to say though.

“However, if you will continue to frequent the tavern then I have every right to find my own amusements, as long as our marriage is kept intact. Whether that be spending time with my friend Merlin or finding a place within the wood, finding friends within the kingdom…I have as much right to enjoy myself as you do.”

She was adamant, allowing no leeway, and temptingly alluring again, as she stuck firm to her belief. His hand came down, touched her waist, and traveled upward slowly.

Her breath hitched as its shivery warm pressure climbed up her side, touching at the side of her breast. “Fine. But maybe soon enough…”

She arched some involuntarily under his touch as his slow smile came back.

“We’ll find amusement with each other.”

It was a slow seduction of feeling from one to another, but she was glad when the odd pressure of tiny bits of cold and expanding warmth left and he turned away. For his affair had just ended. She couldn’t help think if he changed his mind how much it would bother her, terribly. She couldn’t help think that his hand there upon her side, caused sparks of pleasure.

“Good night Prince.”

“Good night Princess.”

…

Arthur held tight to his pillow. Political, his mother’s purpose, that was all this marriage was supposed to be, right? But it was like a web of sapid reward. It kept enticing him. He wanted to touch her again. He wanted…

As she slept now, slumbered with soft breathing sounds. Slumbered less than a few feet away.

 _“Guinevere…”_ He whispered into the cool night, that felt just a little less chilled with her so close beside. He wished for a moment she was _right_ beside because when he was touching her, when his hand was venturing up her curved constitution, he amazingly didn’t feel an inch of cold. He felt warmer than ever. A man more than ever.

 _“Why?”_ , she asked him earlier. Why did he end it? There were so many righteous answers. Infidelity was wrong. Kingdom was in strife. His father would have disapproved. His mother suffered from illness.

But they were only one half.

The other was something he never admitted, never coveted to admit, until now, privately.

He denied that the first few times she stoked the fire for him, she made his heart quiver a bit. He denied that continuing his affair with Elaine, although physically stimulating, inch by inch started to feel sordid and was more an excuse to be stubborn, to hold to how his life was before. Perhaps it was even the same with the tavern. Let’s see when she figured a way to make that fade away too. He denied that when he helped his wife remove her dress, he was filled with flares of desire for her sun blessed skin glowed in the night, alluring, distinctly beautiful. He denied it, because maybe one stupid little part of him wondered if she would give it up, feared she might stop caring. And when she didn’t…it kind of rejoiced with indulgent happiness.

How did she creep in so gently, so sweetly? How did she find his greatest irks and poke at them with no mean favor, but urge to find life’s beat again?

How did she lay right beside and take away all those horrid chills? Make his body drizzle with warmth again? How?

He wanted to move up against, feel her skin, touch her hair, get her to wake and smile back to his face. He wanted the queerest things. For it didn’t come with any warning. It didn’t just temperately become a part of him. Instead it softly, but _rapidly_ rushed in. It made his every ill decision of before start to shake with disfavor.

He was a boy when his father died. Just a boy. Now he was a man. Now he was feeling himself truly a man for the first time.

Under her watch. Under her counsel. Under her…

Warmth.

“Guinevere you gentle temptress. I can’t go back anymore.

I can’t pretend.

Can’t pretend that I don’t care.

Can’t pretend that you don’t matter.

Can’t pretend that you don’t…

Flood me with heat.

Sapid tempts of heat…

That kiss away the cold.”

***

Perhaps love was not so far, and yet its timing was precarious, for danger was not so far either. Perhaps even tragedy.

It was true. Bayard was not acting alone. Bayard was acting with another who had their own purpose and considered Bayard no more than their puppet. Like the other puppets this one controlled.

Dupes…

Their lives existed for just one purpose…

To put all to destruction. To achieve lush rewards. To bring back a way of life. To end another.

_Vale Tirmaiur._

_Vale Camelot._

_Salve ad plus fortunas._

***  
To continue…

***

Yes, the last part is Latin. Something from Irish and British legend/and or mythology is coming.

Yes I accidentally named Freya Gwen’s friend too so that was my way of fixing that little blunder up. Coincidences do happen, right? Oh well, more important things now.

Yes Arthur is slowly growing. Yes Arthur and Gwen’s relationship has found a new plateau of closeness, but also yes, things are about to get very complicated and painful. The past is going to rise. A new future will float to the surface before it desires it.

Thanks for reading.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is in progress and currently I'm working on the next chapter, about 3/4ths done so hoping to get it up soon. Thanks for your interest. Happy reading/writing.


	5. Secrets of Honorable Hearts & Malicious Minds

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***

**Love Woven Through Two Territories**

**Part Five:** _Secrets of Honorable Hearts & Malicious Minds_

Winter’s first urging prevented much light to crack through the curtains. All the same, Gwen barely felt a chill. 

Sometime during the night her husband had shifted in closer, his pale tunic-covered chest inching against her shoulders. Pulling away some now, she studied his slumbering face.

When her father had requested she marry the future king of Camelot, Gwen obeyed in mind and body, but resisted in heart. Meeting Arthur only made things worse. Handsome, and gentle of touch, he also had such lazy arrogance.

In recent days Gwen had come to the conclusion that it was primarily an act. Arthur was a bold man, but rather than being lazy it seemed he was purposefully neglecting his duty to avoid links to the past that would bring up the bittersweet feelings of losing his father. Cloaking himself from his royal role too kept him from having to prove his worth.

Until most recently. 

Gwen peered closer at her husband within the darkened bedroom, that bit of dawning light trying to fight its way through the frosty clouds outside. It lit a fragile glow over Arthur’s cheeks. Gwen lifted her hand, reaching out slowly until her fingers made lightest contact with his skin, causing a sleep contented murmur to blow out from his lips, which half startled her, before she mused on their conversation last night. 

It had irritated her when he said he wanted to keep visiting the tavern. Men were akin to spend time out with their mates, like her father did in his younger days especially, but after making these little breakthroughs in communicating, she felt it was a big step backward.

Would it be crazy too that she wished to spend increased time with him?

Gwen gazed upon his face a little more longingly, before giving a shake of her head.

_Yes…it would._

She pushed up on the mattress with her hand, getting into a sitting position now, studying the southern side of their chambers and deciding something.

It would do no good to leave the task up to Arthur. Her husband already had such ill feelings for his uncle. 

“I have to do this myself. Now.” Gwen whispered softly, feeling just a tiny bit more light entering the room. “Before everyone’s awake.”

Quietly she moved away from the bed and tiptoed across the floor to where her discarded clothing laid, the vial contained within pocket.

…

The hallways were prominently dark and quiet. Gwen was glad for having spent enough time within the capacious castle to be able to find Agravaine’s chambers with little difficulty. All she had to do was slip in there before he awoke, return the vial, and return to bed before Arthur became aware of her absence. Think of it as a sleuthing trip with Freya. Of course Freya was not anywhere near, but that was a small technicality of sorts.

Gwen entered Agravaine’s chambers cautiously, hunched, making her small body even tinier. Although it soon became obvious that not only was Agravaine’s bed empty, but that he was also absent from the room entirely. 

All she had to do was put the vial back exactly where she found it. Gwen perused the perfectly kept premises, seeing that small table she had the day before. This time it was bare, no golden object atop it. 

Her curiosity nagged. Why would he move it somewhere else, and where to?

*******

Something was missing. 

That was the first thing Arthur became aware of as a waking sigh drifted from his mouth and his eyes slowly opened, spotting the empty pillow beside him. “Guinevere?” He called out questioningly, getting no answer. “Guinevere?” He inquired more sharply. 

Still nothing. 

Maybe she just had to tend to nature’s business or such, he mused.

…

Long moments later, his sleepiness now gone, his wife still hadn’t returned. Arthur got up from the bed with an impatient huff and looked for a clue of her whereabouts, kneeling down to the floor to seek out an answer.

“On a treasure hunt?” 

Arthur jumped up, the sprightly inquisitive voice startling him.

_“Merlin!”_ He clapped his hand over his heart. The young man with those crazy bright scarves, the one his mother set up as his manservant, had a dreadful habit of sneaking up on him. “What are you doing?”

Merlin gave frank answer, focusing upon Arthur with continued curiosity. “I was going to make your breakfast when I walked by your chambers and noticed you moving about. You look like you lost something.”

“I did.” Arthur stated busily.

“What?”

“My wife.” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin’s anger surfaced like the crack of a whip. “What did you do?” He advanced rapidly until he had the loose neckline of Arthur’s tunic within fisted hands’ grasp.

Arthur gritted his teeth. “What do you think _YOU’RE_ doing Merlin? Kindly take your hands away from my shirt or you will see how much I detest being cornered.”

Merlin’s eyes were wild with emotion. “Gwen is special! She doesn’t deserve your adul-

Finally Arthur understood as he brought his hands over Merlin’s threatening ones. “You’re a fool Merlin, evident in how you have yet to let go of my tunic, but you do also have rare moments of wisdom. I ended it with Elaine, yesterday. My commitment henceforward is to Guinevere and Camelot, in all respectable fashions.”

Merlin smiled at the concession, but then seeing Arthur’s eyebrows give a little authoritative hitch, the servant slowly moved his fingers down, fussily straightening out the wrinkled fabric of his master’s tunic before he let go entirely. “Ooops.”

Arthur gave a roll of his eyes. “Yeah. _Ooops_ indeed. Feel fortunate that I respect courageousness Merlin, even the lunatic kind.”

“You can’t blame me Arthur.” Merlin answered back. “Gwen is my friend. I don’t want to see her hurt.” Merlin grinned keenly now, his mood flipping like an acrobat. “I knew you had feelings for her, strong ones. Everything’s going to be just the way it should now.”

Arthur moved around the room, grasping a pitcher from the table. He poured its water into a nearby cup and took a small drink, his mouth dry, and Merlin’s comment not one he wanted to battle off or affirm at the moment. “So that woman, the one you spoke about a few times, you must have loved her a lot, right? To come after me like you just did?”

Merlin’s eyes fixed upon the floor for a long moment. “Yeah.”

“Don’t repeat it.” Arthur stated sharply now, giving Merlin a fixed look.

The servant didn’t back off. “Don’t make me have to.”

Arthur shook his head wryly at first, but then whipped it back around the other way with stunned amazement. The fireplace’s force had dwindled down to near nothing by the time he woke. Now it suddenly blazed with life, the flames licking the walls of the hearth hungrily.

“How-

Giving a private smile, Merlin was quick to bring the prince back to his earlier concern. “So you woke up and Gwen wasn’t around?”

Arthur turned away from the suddenly active fireplace, nodding. “Yeah. And it’s been too long now. Maybe she’s with Mary?”

“No. Saw her this morning already. She was heading to the kitchens too; I told her to go without me.”

Arthur noticed how Merlin was staring so fixedly upon Guinevere’s discarded clothing of the previous day. “What’s that about?”

Merlin pressed his top lip over his bottom one. “Huh?”

“Your look, Merlin.”

When his servant didn’t say anything, Arthur put down the cup and moved over to them. “The pocket.”

“Arthur.” Merlin stated loudly, but Arthur was already reaching inside. 

“It’s not here.”

Merlin blinked feigned confusion. “What’s not?”

“The vial, Merlin!”

_Oh no._ Merlin had feared it. He told Gwen to wait for him. Now Arthur explained he had done the same after he learned the truth about it and what Merlin and his wife had been up to the previous day. “She took it back to Agravaine, didn’t she?”

Merlin slowly nodded. “I’m thinking she did.”

“Well then-

Arthur was swiftly making his way to the door, but Merlin intervened before he could touch the wood.

“Merlin, now is not the time for you to make me cross.”

“It’s also not the time for you to act crazy.” Merlin told him fiercely. 

“Well no time is right for _YOU_ to be telling me what to do Merlin. Remember who the master is here and then how about you shut up, eh?” Arthur removed Merlin’s hand from the door easily and stalked out of the room.

Merlin gave a roll of his eyes. “Prat.” Before following. With Arthur in such an ill mood, and Gwen in a possibly volatile predicament, his daily toils could wait.

*******

Gwen thought how she should put the vial down and return to her chambers, but then something peculiar caught her eye. It was shining through the door of the cupboard, a possible answer to her question. She carefully opened the door, gaping at all she saw. “What—how-

Seconds and the door was shut fiercely, a long fingered hand clasping over her mouth. “Snooping, Princess? Dangerous habit.”

His taller and broader body was hard against hers, his arm locking in her shoulders. 

“I knew it.” He sneered against her cheek. “You _did_ take my vial.” He snatched it from her hand and proceeded to yell for the guard, but Gwen anxiously stopped him, grasping onto Agravaine’s arms. “Wait. Listen to me.”

His eyes were cold, that raven hitch of his eyebrows threatening, but he took a step away, fixing his hands upon his waist expectantly. “Well.”

Gwen sighed, taking in his full dress, before she felt that uncomfortable leer, like she had the other night. She fixed her robe more firmly over the top of her partially exposed breasts and gave explanation.

“You’re right. I took it. But I meant no ill will. That night you looked like you were coming from your sister’s chambers.”

“And so you thought what?” Agravaine asked sharply.

Only the truth would work. “That maybe the vial was hers and you had-

Agravaine advanced upon Gwen swiftly, grasping her arms so tightly she flinched. “You thought what, Thief? What did you think I would do to my own sister?”

Gwen swallowed against his unyielding grip. “Lord Agra-

_“WHAT?”_

Breathing fast, Gwen told him. “Her vial is almost identical. And she’s been ill. I thought you had tampered with it.”

Gwen attempted then to push apart from Agravaine’s chest, but his fierce hold wouldn’t let her go yet. She turned her head away, feeling the rabid heat of his words against her cheek. 

“You _DARE_ to accuse me of such a heinous act when-

“Let me go!” She fought against his clenching fingers more vigorously now, feeling a shiver go down her spine. “I was wrong. I didn’t realize-

He brutally cut through, spitting out the words. “Oh you now realize your mistake, is that it _THIEF?_ You think that-

Ice and flame slashed through, a tall shadow appearing in the doorway. “Take your hands off her—NOW.”

It caught Agravaine off guard enough to allow Gwen to break free finally. She moved to the tall shadow that stepped equally as fast toward her. Arthur’s hand reached out to his wife’s arm gently, torrents of concern in his blue eyes. “Are you alright?”

Her arms were sore a bit still, but with no visible marks she was sure, it was best to keep her husband at level emotion. Gwen assured him that everything was okay and yet she couldn’t help notice Merlin standing behind, his disdain for Agravaine vivid. Perhaps she had made a grave mistake, coming here without Arthur’s knowing. 

Agravaine confirmed that troubling thought, as he refused to let things go. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She had accused him of something horrid, but he was a man of the grayest shadows, and what she found in his closet he most certainly hadn’t wanted her to see. Even if he hadn’t taken his sister’s vial, it seemed there was much he hid. 

“Do you know what that _FIBBER_ did? What she thought I did?” 

Seconds and Arthur was like a horse jumping at the bit. Gwen moved forward anxiously, feeling Merlin’s watching eyes on both of them. “Calm, my husband.” She whispered softly, stroking his arm to soften his mood. Both she and Merlin sighed with relief as it seemed to work.

Arthur took a step back from his infuriated uncle, stating steadily, “Don’t call her that. She made a mistake. I’m sure she’s sorry about it.”

Merlin smiled. Perfectly handled. Defend your wife, but let Agravaine do all the raging. 

Arthur hated it, but what his wife did was not right. She had to make amends. And looking to her face now, catching her eye, he knew she was not such a woman of stubborn weak pride who couldn’t handle it. She was the opposite really, much like his mother.

Arthur’s hand out in reluctant invitation, for she knew he’d rather she didn’t have to apologize, Gwen placed hers in his, more than happy to make proper amends to end this once and for all. “My husband is right. I am so sorry Lord Agravaine. I made a horrible blunder and I ask for your forgiveness.”

Arthur smiled at Guinevere with wonder, thinking how good she was at it, balancing her humility and truth without making herself look pitiful. 

Agravaine wasn’t having it though. Threatening seemed the best way to keep Gwen’s mouth shut about what she spotted in his room. “Nephew, your wife is a woman of falsehoods. Best to think about that carefully.” Agravaine held Arthur’s attention with calculating malevolence now. “In fact, it’s quite possible she was the one who instigated all that treacherous trouble regarding Isgard. A liar. Easily a traitor in kind.”

Gwen countered emotionally, heart beating fast, “You think I would put my own land of birth in danger?”

“Ah! See!” Agravaine pointed with emphasis. “She does not regard Camelot as her home even though she is now its future queen. No telling what traitorous doings she’s been up-

“You twist my words! That’s not what I meant! I would never hurt the queen, my husband, or Camelot!” Gwen insisted, but soon she was nudged strongly out of the way. 

Agravaine’s words had shocked Arthur at first, but now they kindled his body with disgust that once Gwen was out of harm’s way he leapt forward like an attacking bear. Fingers thrust within his uncle’s loose collar, he snarled. “ _SHUT_ up. Silence your tongue. As royal prince of Camelot I order you to.”

A tension filled face-off began. Gwen felt Merlin’s hand come out to her waist; she backed up to him with dread in her heart. This had all gone so terribly wrong. “Merlin-

“Wait-

He put up his hand quietly, holding still. Arthur wouldn’t like his interference now. 

Gwen whispered her husband’s name. “Arthur…”

He turned back to her for a fast moment before lessening his hold some on his uncle’s tunic. The bed held something interesting, getting him to let out a keen smile. “Seems you haven’t been around all night. So where are you going off to each evening, Uncle?”

Agravaine answered sharply. “I’m brother to the queen. I don’t have to explain my doings.” Glad to have the upper hand now that it wasn’t a tugging match, physical fight not Agravaine’s strong suit, he continued his earlier rant. “I’m not the one entering someone’s chambers without permission. This woman you married, what do we even know about her? That she loves her land? Who knows what she would do to keep it safe? Maybe even marry the prince of the land with the most formidable army and then as a favor to her father conspire with Camelot’s greatest enemies to bring the kingdom down while her precious little Tirmaiur remains intact. This liar-

Agravaine perhaps should have kept his mouth shut if he wanted to stay away from the physical. Arthur had been trained, since of walking age, how to fight by his father and the knights. Although he wasn’t at his best these days because of neglecting his role for so long, he still had incredible speed and agility.

Seconds was all it took for Agravaine to be thrust forcefully into the wall.

“No, Arthur-

Gwen started to yell out, before giving Merlin an anxious look. _Please._ She mouthed.

He nodded as Agravaine started to retaliate, maybe not a physical man, but he was wily, and so a threatening object was soon in his hand, a razor of sharp edge. If his nephew went too far he’d use it. 

Merlin noticed the rug underneath Agravaine’s right foot. It was sneaky and clumsy magic, but oh well. Eyes glowing gold for just a second, Merlin got the rug to tangle against Agravaine’s feet, causing the man to fall in a tumble. Shocked by it, Arthur stepped away.

Gwen smiled at Merlin her thanks and with the distraction grasped Arthur’s arm. “Husband, please.” She kept her voice as low and respectful as possible. “Let’s get away from here. This argument serves no good.”

Arthur turned on her, his eyes wild. Gwen pressed against his arm, massaging it a bit with her fingers. _“Please.”_

The prince turned back to the fallen Agravaine who now started to stand, his finger barreling at Gwen.

“Liar. Your wife is a liar. And soon everyone in Camelot will know.”

That one Gwen couldn’t let go without her own counter. She stood firm. “I took your vial and I have made amends for it Lord Agravaine, but I am not a common fibber. Nor a traitor. The queen has been nothing but good to me and my father and I am ever so thankful for it. I would never try to hurt her—

Gwen looked to Arthur now, realizing something as she took in the disarray of his hair and the redness in his face. “Nor my husband.” Her heart was beating fervently as she massaged his arm a little more, feeling his tension start to alleviate just a fraction. “My loving husband.”

Arthur turned to her at that and Gwen smiled, but he didn’t return it. Too much had happened here. Agravaine’s words troubled him deeply. “Don’t you say another word of what you accused my wife of Uncle, or you will regret it. Mark my words. You will rue the day you made such false accusations.”

“Soon the truth will be known.” Agravaine simply added with a dark smile, directing it coldly to Gwen as he noticed her glance to the cupboard. If the woman was smart she’d stop nosing into his business. 

Gwen looked back to Merlin whose expression was as disturbed as hers as she felt Arthur’s pull of hand, and heard his quiet command. “Come, Guinevere.”

She let him lead her away without argument. 

*******

Moments later, within chambers, Arthur made it clear that he wanted Merlin to tend to business in the kitchens to allow them privacy. A quick glance to each was all Merlin gave before he departed silently. 

Apprehension nudging, Gwen watched her husband move from one side of the room to another, his hands lifting over his face, ruffling his already messed up hair even more. She would be inclined to fix it if his mood was lighter. “I know what you’re thinking.” She voiced steadily, cutting through the thick tension. 

Arthur rounded on her angrily. “Oh you do, do you?”

Gwen nodded calmly. “I shouldn’t have gone to Agravaine’s chambers after I said I would leave the task to you. But I couldn’t do that Arthur.”

“Why?” He asked, jaw rigid.

“Because.” Gwen gestured to his unkempt appearance from his near tussle with his uncle. “I knew _that_ was how you would react. Angrily.”

Arthur railed at his wife, advancing upon her quickly. “What did you expect me to act like Guinevere? The man accused you of _TREASON!_ ”

Gwen stepped back. She’d never seen Arthur so furious before. Certainly she wanted her husband to be more passionate about things, but not like this. “Well it’s not true. Surely you don’t think—it’s true?” She questioned, eyes wide, because he was suddenly so quiet. Did he doubt her? Did he believe what Agravaine had said?

Letting out a long sigh, Arthur shook his head and took a step back. Seemed he could be as threatening as his father when angry. Never realized he had it in him—until now. 

Somehow this woman made him feel ways he never felt before. Damn her for that. Especially now with everything so complicated. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Guinevere. If Agravaine starts spreading these rumors-

“Lies. They’re lies.” Gwen insisted, before turning away. “How can you believe that I would do such a thing? How can you lay next to me at night and think-

Arthur’s eyes turned to the ceiling, his hands whipping messily through his hair before he took the few steps needed. Gently he brought his hand over his wife’s arm. He didn’t know her completely, but there were some things Arthur was certain about. “I don’t think that Guinevere. I know you would never betray Camelot, or me. I know how much my mother means to you. I’ve seen it and I’m grateful for that affection. Truly Guinevere.”

She looked up to him now, feeling the gentle caress of his hand over her cheek as his other stayed on her arm. “That pleases me Husband.”

He smiled for a quick moment, before frowning again. “That doesn’t make this any better though.”

“It does for me.” She whispered.

Arthur shook his head. “You’re not getting the point Guinevere. 

“I’m not that dense Arthur.” Gwen affirmed.

“No?” Arthur asked, before ruefully adding, “I know you’re not, but I warned you to stay away from my uncle, and yet did you listen to me? No.”

Gwen insisted. “Even as my husband you don’t have the right to tell me everything to do Arthur. I was worried about you facing Agravaine, that you would let your temper take over your sense.”

Laughing dryly at that, Arthur raised his hands to his hair, messing it up even more. “Oh, sometimes I don’t get you Guinevere. You tell me to be a strong man, to be noble and brave.”

Gwen’s hands fisted at her robe. “That doesn’t mean for you to attack your uncle, Arthur.”

“He attacked you!” Arthur yelled back furiously. “Not only that, he accused you of traitorous thoughts and acts!”

Keeping her peace as much as she could, Gwen let out a rueful sigh. “He is an awful man sometimes.”

Arthur laughed again, advancing forward and grasping his wife’s arms. “He is also the elder brother of the queen, Guinevere. He has a lot more leeway than I wish he did. I’ve urged my mother to get rid of him, but she’s refused. With her illness at hand I do my best to not upset her. I tolerate him. That being said, don’t expect me to hold back if he starts bringing out these ugly false accusations about you within council. And don’t expect it to be a small matter. Even with my mother as queen, if he starts those kinds of rumors, it won’t just be Tirmaiur in possible danger, but also Camelot.”

The mention of Tirmaiur brought thoughts of her father to Gwen’s heart, anxious ones. “You said that Tirmaiur was safe. Both you and the queen have stated that with certainty. Is it now fading?”

Arthur looked into his wife’s concerned eyes, his hand moving forward spontaneously to touch her cheek. “No. But that is only if Camelot remains strong, Guinevere. Anything shakes that up…and…”

“Do you think Agravaine could convince the council of something so heinous?”

With Arthur not answering that threatening question right away, Gwen pressed against his arm. _“Arthur?”_

Did he? 

Aldous’s earlier words distressed him. Yet his wife’s anxiety was too strong. It couldn’t be easy, even if it was custom, for a woman to leave her home of so many miles away, not certain for the fate of her loved ones. 

Arthur moved forward, slowly taking his wife into his arms, stroking a bit at her nebulous curls of hair as she didn’t reject him. “No. Not with my mother there.” That much was true. “She wouldn’t condone such lies within council. “Tirmaiur is safe. So are you.”

At those last words, Gwen pulled away, but with Arthur’s fingers still locked within coils of her hair it kept them close for a few precious seconds. She studied the purse of his lips, inching up on her toes to finally smooth out the mess within his hair. It was a gentle moment between them, soon interrupted however.

Hearing Merlin’s sing-songy voice accompanied by Mary’s shyer one, Arthur moved apart from his wife, feeling the drop of her hands as he created the distance. Unaware of what had been going on, Merlin and Mary busily labored away to lay out clothing for the day, present breakfast, and start the tidying of the bed. 

Within it all Gwen talked about her plans for the morning hours, making the rounds and other such important tasks. Arthur frowned when Merlin filled in that he, the prince, would be happy to join her. It wasn’t so much that it was a terrible idea. It was Merlin’s audacious interference, the hopeful challenge in Gwen’s eyes, and the feel of his once normal life fluttering away underneath all these new emotions that he had yet to understand. So he forcefully stated how wrong Merlin was.

…

After breakfast was eaten and they were dressed for their day, Gwen asked Arthur a question while Merlin and Mary were on the other side of their chambers, gathering up the laundry, “So you won’t be doing the rounds, again?”

His wife’s disapproval was obvious, irking Arthur. In the dark of night within their bed it was easier to admit things. At present day, it was like being corralled, and Arthur hated being fenced in. 

His response was dry. “You seem to deal with the rounds well enough on your own.”

The flippant answer puzzled Gwen. Arthur’s moods were so back and forth sometimes; he hardly held steady. Giving into the feelings she was starting to experience for him would be easy if only he would give her a reason to delve so far. Now that sullen tone in his voice produced her rant. “It is _your_ duty too.”

“You’re always telling me that Guinevere.”

“And she’s right.” Merlin brashly filled in.

“Shut up!” Arthur sneered back at Merlin.

Gwen’s hands fisted upon her dress. “You needn’t shout at him. He is only reminding you of your obligations. You don’t see me talking to Mary that way, do you? Servants should be treated with respect. They can be valuable friends.”

Stepping forward so they were face to face, Arthur fumed. “If he wants respect he shouldn’t be so cheeky. Half the time Merlin doesn’t know his place.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Gwen countered with feisty flavor. “Since often you don’t know yours.” Seeing that her husband was getting ready to respond, Gwen brazenly pushed her finger against his lips. “I’m sure now that you’re sulking you’ll be going to the tavern? Isn’t that right Husband of Mine?”

Actually he had been thinking of going off on a ride or something, cool down his bad mood. But she was challenging him and so Arthur now nodded his head vigorously, bringing down her finger. “So right Wife. Because I’m the Prince of Camelot and I can do what I want. Spend time with my mates even.”

“Then go.” Gwen stated firmly, not flinching away from her husband’s defiance.

It took but a moment for him to stomp angrily out of their chambers. When he was gone Gwen closed her eyes, pressing her hand against her heart, chastising herself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually like this. So temperamental.”

“You call _that_ temperamental?” Merlin asked, coming alongside Gwen. “Most women would be throwing things and yelling.”

Gwen’s eyes opened to see Merlin’s proximity, his expression friendly. She shook her head. “Well that solves nothing. And neither does my acting like this. It’s Arthur though. Oh the man is so infuriating at times! Did you hear him Merlin, how he acted about the tavern? It’s like it’s his den to cavort with his friends in. Drink tankards while his kingdom is in possible peril. He can be so selfish! It’s my fault though too. I’m the one who suggested it. He hadn’t even said anything about the tavern and then I opened my mouth and—

Oh, what is it? Why do we do this? Bark at each other like dogs?” She pressed her hand against her chest, taking it away with a surprised look. “My heart is raised, beating so fast, and I just don’t understand. What is this? Why does he affect me so?”

She sank down to the corner of the half unmade bed, pressing her face into her hands.

The spot next to her sank down a little too as Merlin came to sit beside the young princess, reaching out gently. “Because you’re falling in love with him. If you haven’t already.”

Slowly Gwen lifted her face, eyes widened to Merlin with shock, which just made the hidden mage laugh. “Come on Gwen. You know it too.”

Her mouth formed into an _o_ that made Merlin wonder if he had overstepped his place. He moved away from her. “Um, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said-

Gwen’s hands closed over his though. “No. It’s not that. We’re friends. I just—how can that be? Only days ago he was with another woman. I wanted him nowhere near me.”

Merlin nodded his head. “Of course. It hurt you. But you can be hurt and feeling love already too Gwen. You blocked him out then. You still can. But I don’t think you want to anymore. And so now all the feeling comes with it.”

Gwen gazed at Merlin heavily. “You speak with so much experience.”

Merlin shrugged, fiddling some with his scarf, his expression incrementally saddening. “Yeah, maybe too much. Freya.”

“I’m sorry Merlin. You must miss her still so much.”

The servant looked away, in distant thought. “I do. But it is what it is.” He turned back to Gwen, giving a squeeze of her hand. “I need to get back to my work or Arthur will really be shouting it up. I know it’s hard. With the fact that Arthur didn’t really commit himself enough to the marriage from the start. But that thing with him and Elaine is over now Gwen. You two have a chance.”

After Merlin left to help Mary with their daily toils, Gwen pondered on her relationship with Arthur for a bit before letting out a determined sigh and rising up from the bed. Rounds still had to be made and if her husband wasn’t going to tend to them, well then as princess she’d make sure they were done right.

*******

Hours later, alarming events caused Gwen to seek Arthur out at the tavern.

She pushed open the doors, entering the mostly male franchise with diligent purpose, making her way to the bar where her husband sat with his friends.

A few drinks in, Arthur had earlier noticed that Aldous wasn’t there this day. It made him feel a little guilty at first for being there himself. Now that tension was lifted away. He was laughing up a storm about some crazy squalid joke Rand just told when he spotted his wife coming toward them, at first a bit sheepish, soon turning quite cross.

Seeing Arthur loafing it up with his lazy male friends, while sharing tasteless jokes, bolstered Gwen’s objective. Hands fisted at her hips, pressing into the tailored rose material of her dress, she cut through the frivolity. 

“I need to speak to my husband. Alone.”

Arthur, for his part, disgruntled by the interruption, especially in such a public place, faced his wife squarely. “We will speak tonight.”

Unable to contain herself, Gwen grasped her husband’s arm. His precious manhood could take a holiday. Kingdom residents were entitled to proper treatment and at the moment they weren’t getting it. “No. We will speak _now_ Oh Guinevere. She was trying to save face, but enough had already been done. He couldn’t help muttering under his breath. “Fear if I don’t you’ll shut me into a locker of ice and let me freeze.”

Gwen grasped his hand then and pulled him with her toward the tavern door. 

Once exiting it she remarked, “Good idea. I’ll have to remember that if you start acting like the _Pig_ again.”

Outside Arthur gave complaint to the insult, but it fell apart as Gwen importantly interrupted, “Do you know what Agravaine has been doing?”

Okay. After the way Agravaine grabbed her earlier in the morning, Arthur wiped away his lazed half-drunk feeling rapidly, moving toward Guinevere with care. “He touched you again?”

Gwen shook her head. “No. It’s not about me. It’s about how he’s been making the rounds, what he’s been doing during such time.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Was that all? He’d seen Agravaine do the rounds before. He was annoying no doubt, but harmless really. Most of the kingdoms’ toilers knew how to deal with his sometimes upper-handed attitude. “Oh just lauding himself around again, right? Seen it.”

Gwen grasped his shoulders strongly. “Arthur, I’m serious.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her brown eyes were wide and that hard beat to her breast was there again. So Arthur pulled her into a shaded area of trees where no one could spy upon them. “Tell me.” 

“He’s been taxing families for their amount of children, requiring they pay a penance each time one is born. And then who knows what he does with the money. On my rounds I noticed quite a few families, larger ones especially, starting to become impoverished. All because of what he’s requiring of them. I witnessed a child with a stomach so malnourished. Arthur there is no call for that. Families-

“ _WHAT?_ ” Arthur halted Gwen’s sentence with shock. 

“I knew you wouldn’t agree with this.” Gwen whispered, her breathing normalizing now that she finally got his undivided attention.

“Of course not.” Arthur insisted.

“So your mother must not know either, right?”

Arthur shook his head adamantly, all left over buzzes of drunkenness depleted. “No. Never would she allow that. Where is this child? The malnourished one.”

“I brought him food from the kitchens. And I sent the physician to check upon him. I even dug into my funds…combined with yours now of course. Gave the family some silver pieces so they will be able to go to market. Crops don’t grow as well in the winter.”

Arthur gave a reassuring squeeze of her shoulders to tell his wife he agreed with her decisions. “I’m glad you did all that.” He lifted his head angrily. “Should have known he would do something like this. Now you see why I’ve never trusted Agravaine. Why I want you to stay away from him. He squanders and squalors where he can. Shady and greedy to the end. Wish my mother never brought him here, but sadly he’s her kin.”

“She needs to know, Arthur.”

“Right. Come on.” Arthur grasped onto Guinevere’s hand, getting her to look up at him with surprise.

Arthur’s response was rapid and plain. “Oh now come. You’re the one who found this all out. You should be there.”

He lowered his head in pensive thought.

“What, Arthur?” Gwen asked, placing her hand over his.

Finally he looked up to her again. “I would have known all this if I had been doing the rounds. Like you told me I should. If Agravaine had found you learning about this I don’t like to think what could have happened. He’s a vile man; my mother needs to know once and for all. I get why she wasn’t aware of this in the first place. She’s had a lot on her plate with all the turmoil Bayard and now Isgard has caused. But this is my birth kingdom, people I care about, and you’re my wife. An honorable one Guinevere.” 

He caressed her hand with emotion. “Brave too. I won’t let Agravaine upset that by spreading vicious rumors that my mother is too busy to stop. She’s going to hear from me now what he falsely accused you of this morning. I want you there to hear it too. I owe you that much.”

Gwen shook her head, tempering any gratefulness for her husband’s caring response. “Arthur you don’t have to. It could cause tension between you and your mother. I don’t want to be the instigator of that.”

He grasped her hand. “You couldn’t be. Now come with me.”

It was a command, but stated so gently it touched Gwen’s ears like a tender song. 

*******

Ygraine was shocked and livid about what Arthur had to tell her. Agravaine taking advantage of the poorest people of the kingdom was a travesty, and his accusations about Guinevere were deplorable. Howbeit, Arthur’s strong urgings for her to kick him out of kingdom fell on deaf ears. 

“I can’t do that Arthur.” Ygraine insisted, wearing a deep blue dress that made her coils of gold white hair shine.

“Why not?” Arthur asked, looking to Gwen for assistance, however she carefully kept quiet. 

“Arthur, please remember that he is your uncle. And my brother. He has done much for the kingdom.”

“Such as?” Arthur asked dryly.

Ygraine pursed her lips. “Such as matters you would know more about if you tended to your duty regularly. I’m grateful that you’re so diligent about knight training, like your father was, but it would help too if you didn’t leave Guinevere to tend to the rounds alone. I’m sure she’d prefer your accompaniment also.”

They both looked back to Gwen who cleared her throat. “I think this is a conversation for the two of you alone. Please excuse me.”

She curtsied to the queen and made her way out, getting Arthur to sigh. “Come on Mother. You don’t think the accusations Agravaine made are potentially dangerous? He made them about Guinevere. I thought she mattered to you.”

Ygraine smiled slightly. “As I can see she is mattering to you much more now.” She added firmly, “Of course what he said concerns me Arthur.”

“And what about the leering?”

“Oh Arthur.”

“Mother.”

Ygraine reached for her son’s hands, asking an interesting question. “Doesn’t Gwen wear something around her neck?”

Arthur’s forehead wrinkled as he answered absentmindedly. Sometimes he even forgot it was there for it was quite simple, but for the finishing touch. “She wears a necklace sometimes, yes. She told me once that it came from Tirmaiur, has a rare stone from a cave at the outskirts of the kingdom. What does that have to do with this?”

Holding still, Ygraine didn’t answer.

“Mother.”

Directing her attention back to Arthur, she shook her head. “Nothing. Just rest assured, Agravaine’s leer has not been tied to improper advances. I will speak to him about this matter as well as the other. You needn’t fear any rumors made to the council.”

“So you know how to stop them?”

Ygraine straightened her back. “I am _Queen_ , Arthur. Please don’t dismiss that fact as trivial. I have the final say of what happens within council, not your uncle, nor you. Gwen is a princess, a member of this family, and someone I care about as much as I hope you do. She will have nothing to fear.”

With that the queen departed the room and Arthur had to resign himself to her judgment, muttering under his breath once she was gone. “I hope you’re right Mother.”

*******

The tension between Ygraine and Agravaine was as ripe as ready to eat fruit while she chastised him harshly for his unfair and unjust monetary demands upon the people. “Just be thankful I don’t put you in the cells for this. Uther most certainly would have. I am appalled, Agravaine. Taking money from the people…are you that desperate now?”

The man showed little reaction, but then it started stewing in his head. “It’s _her_ , isn’t it? That little thief can’t keep her flippant lips closed!”

The incriminating response infuriated Ygraine. “Enough, Brother! I never told you how I learnt the truth and I don’t need to. It doesn’t matter. Just that I know now. I’ve always been aware of your compulsions and I’ve never said anything about them, about the collection you have in that locked closet.”

He gaped, getting Ygraine to respond. “Oh yes, I do know about that. About why certain things have disappeared around the castle, including precious objects of mine. Now most recently it’s Guinevere you’ve been leering at, an object no doubt of hers gaining your attention. Well you can forget it.”

Her finger pointed with meaning. “I promise you that if one thing out of Arthur and Guinevere’s chambers goes missing, I _WILL_ put you in the cells.”

“After everything I’ve done for you-

“As I’ve done much for you in kind. Kept a blind eye. No more. You end this sick compulsion or you will pay the same price any other criminal of Camelot does.”

Looking away, Agravaine tensely wrung his hands, getting Ygraine’s expression to soften a bit. “I love you Brother. I do Ag. I always have. And I’m grateful for the things you’ve done that Arthur has not seen, has not cared to see. But I cannot tolerate lawlessness. 

Now as for the other matter, the _FALLACIOUS_ accusations you made about Guinevere, trust me that if you dare to attempt opening your mouth about any such ugly lies to the council, I will have you banished…”

Ygraine fumbled on the next words. Tears welling in her eyes, she told him with the firmest voice she could eke out, “Forever. From Camelot. From me. I promise you that.”

“You don’t even know that woman!” Agravaine yelled. “I’m your brother.”

Ygraine stood tall. “I know her well enough that she does not keep secrets from me, lie to me, like you sometimes do.” She adjusted the collar of her dress. “Now I have royal business to attend to. So you’re dismissed.”

Steaming, Agravaine stalked out of the queen’s chambers, dark mutterings escaping his breath once he was outside. “You’ll be sorry for this Ygraine. For taking that thief’s side over mine. For making such awful decisions about Camelot. One day you’ll see how right I was…

And how wrong you are.”

*******

Progressing down the long hallway of the castle’s second floor, Arthur stopped at one of the many windows, studying the movement outside. Feeling gentle pressure against his shoulder he turned around. “Guinevere. Why did you leave?”

Lowering her hand, Gwen told him that she thought it a private moment between son and mother. When Arthur told her that his mother still refused to exit Agravaine out of kingdom she responded with, “Did you really expect her to? Arthur, it’s her brother. Every family has someone who is problematic. That doesn’t mean you banish them from your life.”

Arthur sighed. “Well at least you’re held in my mother’s favor. It will keep Agravaine’s mouth shut for longer.”

“Something good.” Gwen smiled mildly as Arthur turned away again to witness the beginnings of knight training for the afternoon. “You should join them.”

“I felt a little guilty actually when my mother mentioned how well I have been taking over the training. If she knew it was Leon-

Gwen’s hand reached for Arthur’s shoulder meaningfully. “Then make sure she doesn’t find out. Change the fact. Your mother has enough to deal with now. Do your duty Arthur. I know you want to.”

He sighed once more, but with it was a wry smile. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Just need to go find Mer-

“Ready when you are!” A jaunty voice exclaimed from behind them, getting Arthur to jump against Gwen’s touch. She had to contain her laughter. Merlin was indeed uncanny with his timing, presently balancing the heavy armor in his lanky arms.

_“How does he do that?”_ Arthur mouthed at her with awe as Merlin busily skipped ahead.

*

*******

After Merlin’s help with his armor, Arthur _did_ attend knight training, informing Leon that he would take his place that day. The elder knight gratefully and respectfully moved aside. It was good to see the prince attending to his duty more, especially with the possible trouble brewing from Isgard. 

First moments of it, a full session, not just a half, Arthur was still a bit rusty, and a few of the bolder knights seemed to want to challenge, but soon everything was back into place, Arthur proving why he often was called _a fighting machine_. 

In secret, many hours later, within chambers, Arthur let out groans of soreness, his muscles worked so much more diligently than they had been in a long time. The room also quite chilled from winter’s continued early push, didn’t help matters. So it was up to Gwen to be of assistance after Merlin got him out of his armor. She stoked the fire until it flamed nicely in the hearth and sat down beside her husband on the bed, hearing his grunts. “Sore?” She asked with a hint of a sympathetic smile, getting Arthur to nod his head.

“Yeah.” He lifted his arm, grunting some more. “Oh.”

The training activities had been a thrill for Gwen to watch. She had noticed how often her husband would show his prowess and smile at her, getting the few maiden ladies also in attendance to watch with interest. She’d smile back properly, but with tingles of excitement. It made her gratified to see him act in such a lively invested way.

Now as his soreness continued, getting him to moan, she moved in front, untying his tunic’s laces.

Feeling her fingers fumble some, before they found their adeptness at the intimate task, Arthur stared. “Guine-

She cut him off, pressing her fingers against his chest. “Wifely duties.” Then she lifted away his tunic, pulling it over his head of sweating golden blonde hair, watching the dank strands go askew. With a smile she pushed them back down and sat behind him, grasping his bare shoulders with her small hands.

It took merely moments for Arthur to be leaning against her, sighing heavily. _“Oh.”_

“Feels good?”

“Yes.” He whispered.

Although Arthur sometimes slept without his tunic, this was the first time she touched so intimately his revealed skin. It felt tight, muscles of tendon and sinew ripe under her fingers. She kept up the conversation to not think about his appealing physique too heavily. “It probably was a bit taxing today. So many hours. Just one session. And that is why I’m so proud of you Arthur. Taking your lead today. Twice. Respectfully with your mother, and authoritatively with your men. It was a sight to see.”

He whispered back, as her fingers kneaded his shoulders and a bit lower. “You were watching then? I was pretty sure of it. Caught your eye a few times. But then you’d look away or I’d have to. Wasn’t totally certain.”

Gwen smiled. “Of course I was. Caught your eye too and that mischievous smirk of yours. I’ve always loved watching knight training actually. Used to spend hours observing my father and Lance-

The second name was out of her mouth before she could cut it off, but it didn’t feel as heavy as it would have months ago.

“Hmmm?”

Gwen gave no answer right away so Arthur turned back now; she could see his blue eyes so close, their gentle flicker of beryl fire studying her intently, while his breath blew somewhat chilled air over her cheek. Always a bit cold her husband, and yet it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, because the warmth was in his eyes. She imagined if she wanted she could warm up that mouth too.

_Oh, what was she thinking?_ Gwen babbled now to pretend her thoughts hadn’t gone so wayward. “Lancelot. The man I was…sort of with in Tirmaiur. I used to watch him too.”

Suddenly Arthur was filled with conflicting feeling, wanting to know everything about Lancelot, and also wanting to pretend the man didn’t exist. “What do you mean sort of?”

Gwen’s hands had earlier been on her husband’s shoulders and back, but with him presently turned they were fallen a little down to his chest. She could feel one reaching a sensitive spot before she lifted it up quickly. “Well, he had stronger feelings for me than I for him.”

“Not so strange, a man’s strength of feelings for you.” Arthur murmured, concentrating upon his wife’s face, getting in a tiny little glimpse of her womanly constitution. “You’re a very good lure.”

Gwen blushed some, her head falling, but Arthur’s hands caught at hers, and one edged along her chin, getting her to look up at him. “We haven’t really talked about it in depth. I didn’t give you reason to. Were you intimate with him? In…well…”

Nothing more needed to be said. Arthur’s tone held strong innuendo and Gwen understood quite quickly what he meant. She shook her head vigorously. “No. Not at all. I’m a princess, Arthur. I always knew that I’d be betrothed some day. Such intimate relations, I would have been required to tell my husband of and that may have not made me look so favorable.”

Arthur sighed, knowing what his wife meant. It was sort of a double standard really. By medieval expectations, a husband could take whatever woman he wanted as long as the throne was kept intact and the relations were in private. A woman however could be considered many ugly things if she cheated upon her husband. Oh it happened of course, but women like that were often marked in vile ways. And if it happened before marriage they could even be considered ‘less valuable’. 

It wasn’t something Arthur totally agreed with. “It would have been alright if you had. Well I may have been a little jealous. But it would make you no less honorable really. With what I’d been up to I don’t think I’d have the right to judge anyway.”

Gwen shook her head, admitting, “It never really came to that honestly. It was intimate at times, but never to that degree. Still, he’s a good man, and I wish our parting didn’t have to be so…bitter.”

Arthur turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I know. It was just as bitter, if not more-so with Elaine.”

“So you regret it, ending what you had with her?”

Adamantly Arthur shook his head, his hand grazing along his wife’s waist. “No. I actually feel freer now. I didn’t like being in hiding.”

Gwen wondered about his answer for a few moments, before returning her attentions to her husband’s back and shoulders, getting him to turn again so she could continue the massage. “Well, as I was saying, I enjoyed it, the training. When I saw you today, talking to that knight who was trying to resist you at first, how you showed him your sword and quietly, yet efficiently, without being boastful, without being hurtful, proved you were the leader, I liked that very much. And I could see the men’s respect for you then. You were such a leader.”

Arthur chuckled softly. “That man you speak of was Gwaine. He’s actually been a friend for many years, but when I stopped training as much it added some prickles to our friendship. It felt really good today, you know, better than I realized it would. I’m just still a bit surprised it interested you so much. Not all women react the way you do.”

Every word he spoke of his gratification at having her watch put Gwen at added ease. She couldn’t help it if she wanted to, emotions so languid and free now. Her hands slid away from Arthur’s back of their own accord, and rounded over his arms, finding a spot upon his naked chest to rest themselves upon. His skin was actually quite warmer now, massaged and cared for.

Arthur caught his breath at the surprise contact. While his body was often more chilled, hers was always the opposite, and the way she was touching him, well, it was more than just pleasant, heating up any leftover fragments of cold within him. 

He confessed further, “Elaine especially never cared to watch. She would do what she could to get me away from it.” As Gwen said nothing in response, Arthur peered down at one of her small hands, catching how it lay gently over his heart, feeling the contact bringing the beat up. He lifted it up slowly to his lips, and pressed down with his mouth for a quick kiss. “I’m glad you see it differently.” He murmured softly.

“Mmmm…” Gwen’s eyes were closed now, her body and mind so relaxed. Arthur shifted his head to feel those ringlets of curls against his skin. Spontaneously he stated it. “I want to go with you tomorrow to do the rounds. Make sure none of what was going on today is happening anymore.”

_“Mmm…”_ Gwen murmured again, his contact so alluring and his words her greatest turn-on. “I would enjoy that very much my husband.” Maybe Merlin was right. Being so physically close to Arthur, now in such a private way, concealed within their shared chambers, most definitely felt… _delicious_. It was like practical sense flew out the window, replaced by this lazy pleasure.

Arthur was feeling much the same, that little hypnotic lure not wanting to let him go, as he didn’t want to let her go at this precise moment. Let them hold still like this. So warm. So right. Smiling with eyes half closed, he kept hold of her hand, loosely, howbeit with slow strokes from his fingers. His mind had no control over them. It was all feeling.

“Good, my wife.” He said more intimately than he ever had.

Relishing that word for the first time really.

Wife. 

No. Two words. 

_My wife._

*******

Another kingdom. 

The head rolled off the platform getting the crowds of people to either scream in horror or clap in macabre joy. 

A knight of Bayard’s forces now for over sixteen months, he moved carefully through the chaos. There were people fleeing and others rushing to thank Bayard. No doubt they didn’t want their head to roll off a platform too, as had been done to their now fallen dead king. He looked away with disgust as one of the knights raised it up into the air, swinging the object like it was a ball. Only the strands of bloodied hair proved it was no ball at all. 

The knight advanced to a trail of tents at the edge of the conquered kingdom, stopping at the flap of one. It looked most like the others, wind torn, dull of shade, but this one too had something of secret marking it distinctly so that the knight knew for sure it was the right one. He stepped through the flap without hesitation, hearing a shrill voice come from the rear, 

“Read your fortune handsome knight? Luck and good woman come to ye for sure.”

The knight carefully removed his helmet of war that disguised his mask of face, sitting down at the rickety table, and extending a tiny, but remarkable coat of arms. “The fortune of a kingdom is more of what I’m interested in, fortune teller.”

“Yes.” The person, dressed in a midnight blue colored cloak, moved forward with an elderly limp toward the table. Pulling back on the cloak’s hood just a bit, revealed a wizened womanly face, wrinkles so cut into the skin, they seemed like permanent markings since birth.

The knight let out a whistle, whispering covertly, “Elena did a good job. She’s always shown expertise with the makeup, but _this_ , she’s outdone herself.”

“I look hideous. I know.” The elderly woman complained in a much gruffer voice now. “Even altered my vocal chords nearly perfectly with some awful concoction she made me drink. But it was necessary. If they found out who I truly am, everything would be ruined.” 

Shuffling around, with a bit more of a stronger gait now, the woman came back with a rusted kettle. As she poured a drink into two iron cups, bits of her straggly white hair escaped the cloak. 

“I need to get back soon. No doubt Bayard, after he’s done with his head-rolling festivities, will want to get his fortune done too, and then it might get a little precarious me being here. Since as you know, in the past, I’ve personally gone against Bayard before.”

The knight shook his head wryly, grimacing some at the sour taste of the drink. Probably had to do with the poor condition of the cup. Ah, wartime and what it meant to the condition of anything. His stomach might be complaining tonight. Better take it slow on the drink. He put the cup down. “Yeah, could have done us all a favor by just doing him in then.”

The elderly woman laughed, it coming out like a shrill cackle. “It was over five years ago, need I remind you, and it was a silly little battle about bandits and cattle. How was I to know then he was going to become the man to snatch up five kingdoms in a row within about a year’s time?”

“Baffles the mind.” The knight stated with incredulity. “He can’t even keep his own council in order. When they meet it’s like a tavern’s brawl, but now he’s managed to cut down five kings. Fie.”

“Okay.” The elderly woman drank shortly from her cup with a little less disgust. She was probably used to the acidic taste. 

She put her gnarled hands down upon the table, drawing a sort of imaginary map. “From here to there. About a year’s time as I said, give or take. Newest is Chenary. Look at the distance from the first to the third especially. So great. And yet Bayard’s brain, we agree, is so feeble. Someone within is in on this for certain. Not even the keenest mind could do all this alone.”

“Well we’ve agreed on that since practically the start of all the kingdom conquering, but it’s gotten us no closer to an answer of who it is. Thing is this. Chenary is now lost, and all those foolish enough to be celebrating it with their new king will soon be fleeing for their lives. He works his people like animals. Not so nimble of mind, he still is a man of plain cruelty, a barbarian really. I’ve watched so many die since taking position in his guard. It’s made me even more incensed to learn how he’s doing it.”

The elderly tarot reader nodded her head, as outside continued the wails and shouts of a kingdom in total chaos. “Who’s next on the list?”

The knight grimaced. “Wish I knew for sure.” He wiped at his mouth with his finger after taking another quick drink. “Bayard hasn’t whispered a word, not even to his knighthood. He has little mind, but whoever it is on the inside is good at keeping him mum. All I know are the rumors and the name that keeps coming up, Isgard. Bayard seems to always start the conquering during a vulnerable point for each kingdom. A crack in an alliance and he’s there to open it up further and destroy. Within the Northern kingdoms’ alliance, it is Isgard who has been stirring up the most trouble. So yeah, my gold is upon Isgard. After that, could be wrong, but I have a feeling it will be Ascetir. They’re small and don’t have as much of an ocean border as prodigious kingdoms like Camelot.”

“What about Tirmaiur?” The elderly woman asked with the tiniest hitch of emotion.

“The knight looked miserable for a second, putting his head into his hands. “I don’t know for certain. I know he wants it, but something’s stopping him from getting to it yet. I’m guessing it’ll be the eighth.”

“Of course something’s stopping him. Tirmaiur is not the easiest territory to travel to, you and I both know, but beyond that, I have to grudgingly admit, is the strength of Camelot’s assistance.”

“Don’t be so sure. One rumor has it that Camelot too is on his list.”

“You can’t be serious! Any kingdom that has foolishly gone up against Camelot, I have to say, has lost with shame. Their guard is in the highest of numbers, impenetrable. I’ve seen how impressive they are at guarding Tirmaiur, keeping away the bandits and anything else that wants to get through. Attempting the conquest of Camelot would be like trying to crush a stone wall with a garden shovel.”

There was a shrill shriek and manic laughter from outside the tent, getting the knight to gesture dryly, “They’re rolling the head of the former king of Chenary around on the ground. _Like it’s a toy_ That’s proof of what he can do. And don’t forget. Just five years ago in battle Camelot’s king was killed, hence the queen having to take over. Camelot is strong, but nothing is so stalwart that it’s unbreakable.”

The elderly woman ran gnarled fingers through her white hair tensely. “Which doesn’t bode well for Tirmaiur of course then. Such a fierce guard always to believe in, have sworn to it with my life, but the low numbers available now show the weakness. If Camelot with its big numbers cannot stop Bayard then that’s like saying nothing can stop him. We’re all doomed.” 

The knight asked cautiously, “So we give up? Just surrender to Mercia?”

The elderly woman looked so aged now, her head down, before she lifted it with fierce, and oddly enough, young determination. “Never.”

The knight smiled. “That’s how I want to hear you talking.”

“You didn’t really think I was giving up, did you?” The elderly woman asked wryly. “Know me so little?”

The knight laughed. “Of course not. Just wanted to hear you state the contrary.”

They said nothing more for a handful of moments, sharing a look of conviction, and then the knight approached the topic carefully. “ _So_ …She married him. Another rumor spread around, but I’m guessing it’s true since it was talked about before I left on this…er…escapade.”

“No rumor. It’s true.” The elderly woman’s voice showed that crack of emotion again. “I feigned being furious with her before she left.”

“So you agree that it was the only choice then to safeguard Tirmaiur?”

“Of course. I don’t like it any more than you probably do, but with Camelot’s assistance, Tirmaiur is stronger. No matter how determined Bayard is, and even if you’re right and he can get through all the defenses because of who is helping him within, he’s for certain not to have an easy time of it. Won’t be like these first five. He should prepare for a struggle because Tirmaiur ,and Camelot too I’m betting, won’t go down without a fight to the death.”

The knight got up now, his fist tightening with inward battle. “It was over a year ago I left. Made my sister believe I was nothing more than a lost cause. Made all of Tirmaiur believe it. So that I’d be what Bayard wanted. Get accepted into his knighthood with my disguise of identity thanks to Elena. But look now. Five kingdoms lost. Tirmaiur in such potential peril that this alliance with Camelot had to be done. My sister having to marry a complete stranger. No choice of her own. I’m a failure to this point.”

The old woman stood up too, reaching out for the knight’s shoulder. This had to be one of the hardest tasks, leaving your homeland, never coming back for even a visit, while pretending to be someone you are not, fighting for a man you truly despised all to get the insider information. 

“If he’s an unsavory man, this Camelot prince she married, he’ll have to deal with me, alright? No one expected you to get this done right away. We didn’t even know if it would work, getting Bayard’s forces to accept you into their knighthood. Thankfully it did, and so let’s concentrate on what matters. There’s been nothing, you’re sure of it? Nothing at all that could give us a clue to who Bayard is working with?”

The knight’s expression grew studious for a moment. “Well there is _one_ thing. But I have no idea what it means. Bayard had a visitor. Nothing new. He’s always having different sorts who I can’t even catch a glimmer of. But something did happen after this one’s visit. Noticed it before the castle workers came by to clean up. A slip of paper was dropped. It’s ripped and messy, ink faded, but well, here, see if you notice something.”

The elderly woman took the ripped parchment, reading what was legible. “Ni---acquire. The Sp---Ug. Crush----Bl---dry.”

Her puzzled look got the knight to nod his head. “Yeah. Same as I thought. A riddle of no sense.” He started to pocket it away, but then the elderly woman reached for it, whispering, “Freya, she might be able to make something of it. Let me take it to her.”

“That’s just a game she and my sister have always played.” The knight complained.

The elderly woman was insistent though. “You never know. Can’t hurt.”

“Alright.” The knight let the elderly woman take the ripped parchment. They were about to say more when the tent flap was given a knocking to, and someone soon entered. The man, also in Mercia knight gear, but more messily, made his way to the other knight with a gruff bellow, his physique like that of a buffalo. Impressively frightening. “Oh, should have known it was you, Rulf! Always taking up the time of others. Well get, because I want a fortune reading too-

The elderly woman interrupted smoothly, her voice rising high now. “Listen here. You get back outside or you won’t like your fortune much, will you my Dear? This knight still has a few moments, and those should be in private. I’ll be telling ye your fortune in moment’s time. Wait till his departure and then you can come in and hear your future.” She stepped forward, touching his shoulder while keeping her own hunched to disguise true height. “No doubt it’ll be a good one. Have a sense about you.”

The man grinned at that, slapping Rulf on the shoulder so hard he had to fight to keep from stepping forward. The two of them waited until finally the _buffalo_ knight was gone before speaking again. 

“You’re right. An early exit from here is the best. Be smart, close up camp so you’re out of here before morning’s light.”

“That was the plan.” The elderly woman responded dryly, muttering how the buffalo man reminded her of Percival, just as big as him. And then, “Alright, get out of here. Before he knocks the tent over with his impatience.”

The knight smiled, putting on his helmet. The elderly woman took a look at the tent flap, seeing that it was closed all the way, and whispered fast against the knight’s ear. “Be cautious Elyan. See you at the next rendezvous. Rulf? Sounds like my dog back in Tirmaiur.”

The knight responded the same, in hushed tones so even if someone did try to listen outside, although the tent flap was good and thick, they wouldn’t hear a word. “Same with you Lancelot. Be watchful. Hope I have more to tell soon. Hey! It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

And with that the knight, in truth, Prince Elyan of Tirmaiur, left the elderly woman to her own, who was no woman at all, but in truth Sir Lancelot of Tirmaiur, and a man who was in love with the king’s daughter. He slipped it out once more, the ripped parchment, thinking that, yes, if anyone other than Gwen could piece it together, it would be Freya for sure. 

“That new husband of yours I hope is wise enough to be treating you right Gwen. Or he’ll have me to confer with.” He whispered softly, before pushing the paper back into his pocket and raising his voice with an elderly woman’s cackle. Elyan’s knight friend was impatiently waiting. “Come in Dear…Fortunes to be told! Great luck I see in your future!”

Great luck. Let it extend to Tirmaiur. Let that parchment mean something of value before another kingdom’s demise.

***

_To be continued…_

**AN:** What can I say about the delay, but I got sidetracked and when the muse came back in full I still had to make sure this chapter flowed well, and plan out in my head the story's continuation in stronger detail. 

So with that done, I hope to get up the next chapter much more quickly. Hope27's inspiring images will be finding their way into the story shortly. We're getting to a very dramatic and relationship building point for Arthur, Guinevere etc...

Thanks so much for reading and being patient with me. As always feedback is adored. A good one to you my friends. :)


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